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PSYCHANALYSIS IN THE 
CLASSROOM 



PSYCHANALYSIS IN 
THE CLASSROOM 



BY $ 

GEORGE H. GREEN 

B.Sc. (Lond.), B.Litt. (Oxon) 

Licentiate of the College of Preceptors, Teachers' Certificate 

(Board of Education) , Diploma in Education 

(University of Oxford) 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
BY 

WILLIAM McDOUGALL, F.R.S. 

Professor of Psychology at Harvard University 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Ube Iknicfcerbocfeer press 
1922 



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Copyright, 1922 

by 
George H. Green 

Printed in the United States of America 



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JAN 31 1922 



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INTRODUCTION 

Mr. Green has written a book which will re- 
ward with new insight every school teacher who 
may read it. He has in a very unusual degree the 
power of gaining the confidence of children and of 
inducing them to talk of those entirely private ex- 
periences which are aptly called their daydreams. 
He has gathered accounts of such daydreaming 
from many children; and in this book he presents 
a sample of this store, skilfully showing how great 
is their importance in the lives of very many child- 
ren, and how the wise teacher who knows how to 
penetrate these privacies of the child's mind may 
gain an understanding of the child which could 
hardly be obtained in any other way and which 
enables him to correct at an early stage tendencies 
which might and too often do develop into morbid 
and hampering habits. It may be hoped that 
Mr. Green's book will serve in some measure as a 
corrective of the exaggerated " behaviourism' * 
which is rampant in this country and which 
threatens to be a serious bar to progress. I ques- 
tion the propriety of the title which Mr. Green 



vi INTRODUCTION 

has chosen for his book, not because he has omitted 
a letter from the well established word " psycho- 
analysis/' but because his chapters, while making 
a wise and discriminating use of the gains brought 
to psychology by the practice of " psycho-analy- 
sis,' ' do not imply the acceptance of the mass of 
vague and speculative theory which is commonly 
implied when the term psycho-analysis is used. 
Psycho-analysis is one method of psychological 
research among others equally important, though 
it is also a method of medical treatment ; and the 
line of progress is that which Mr. Green has skil- 
fully followed — namely, to make use of whatever 
sound contributions to psychological fact the 
psycho-analytic method may bring, while main- 
taining a cautious and critical reserve towards the 
wide-reaching but ill-digested speculations which 
are commonly adopted somewhat uncritically by 
the medical practitioners of this new art. 

W. MCDOUGALL. 
Harvard, June, 1921. 



PREFACE 

At the moment of writing, psychanalysis is 
probably the most discussed subject before the 
public. It goes without saying that a great part 
of what is said is extremely ill-informed, and that 
much that is included under the term would 
hardly be considered as psychanalysis by its 
founder or by any serious student of the 
subject. 

A great deal of blame must rest with some of 
those who have written about psychanalysis. 
Public interest in views that were strange and 
new, and in results that were so striking, led to a 
supply that was commensurate with the demand. 
But here, as elsewhere, it is part of the duty of 
the student to discriminate between the serious 
contributor and the mere pandar. 

Neither demand nor supply shows any signs of 
falling off just now, but there is in some quarters 
a great reaction against the new views. There is, 
naturally enough, the opposition of those who 
stand for the established tradition, and who 
take up the attitude of any vested interest against 

vii 



viii PREFACE 

a possible usurper. This attack is intelligible 
enough. But there is a further attack, which is 
wild and ignorant for the most part, is directed 
by prejudice, and must be regarded as irrational. 
Those who are tempted to take part in it should 
first read Freud a little, so that they may under- 
stand not only what they propose to attack, but 
themselves also. They will discover that all they 
can say or do has already been foreseen. 

One part of this attack is the reiterated charge 
that psychanalysis concerns itself only with what 
is objectionable. The charge is, of course, untrue ; 
but it is at the same time very illuminating. It 
is impossible that any subject which deals with 
the whole field of human behaviour can avoid 
touching at times material that is unpleasant. 
Further, psychanalysis developed in the first 
instance out of medical practice, and tended to 
emphasise what is now to be regarded as the 
purely pathological side of the subject. But the 
men and women who can read the works of 
the leaders of psychanalytic thought and find in 
them nothing but what is disgusting, are like 
their forbears, who could find nothing in human 
nature but what was depraved. Their views 
tell us little or nothing about psychanalysis or 
human nature, but they tell us clearly, beyond 
all possibility of error, that their authors are 
obsessed by a deep and overpowering interest in 
things that are disgusting and in depravity. 



PREFACE ix 

It seemed to me worth while to write a book 
that should present, as clearly and as simply as 
possible, such parts of the psychanalytic theory 
as were likely to be of use to parents and teachers, 
and to other people who were connected with 
and interested in children; and to use as illus- 
trative material some of the facts that have come 
under my personal notice as a result of my 
contact with normal children. I have to thank 
my sister, and my friends and former colleagues, 
Mr. T. H. Jolliffe, Head Master of the Portsmouth 
Town Boys' School, and Mr. B. J. Sparks, B.A., 
B.Sc, for a great deal of assistance in the collection 
of the material; and also Professor W. McDougall, 
F.R.S., Dr. M. W. Keatinge, Reader in Educa- 
tion in the University of Oxford, and Dr. R. R. 
Marrett, Reader in Social Anthropology in the 
University of Oxford, for the opportunities they 
gave me of discussing my material with them. 
It must be understood, however, that the grateful 
mention of the names of these gentlemen does 
not imply that they have endorsed, or will endorse, 
the statements I have made in the following 
chapters. 

I cannot claim that the book is in any sense a 
complete statement of the whole psychanalytic 
position. I have intentionally limited its scope 
in view of the purpose I had in mind. The 
reader who is interested may extend his reading 
without limit. But I have tried to consider the 



x PREFACE 

special needs of the teacher and the parent, and 
to be at once simple and comprehensive. To 
these ends I have sacrificed much; but not, I 
hope, accuracy and sincerity. 

G. H. G. 

London, Easter, 1921. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER 

I. — Introduction . 


PAGE 

3 


II. — The Daydream . 


II 


III. — The Daydream {Continued) 


• 54 


IV.— Play 


• 79 


V. — Dreams 


• 93 


VI. — Word Associations . 


. 121 


VII. — Interest ..... 


• 138 


VIII. — Introversion . 


174 


IX.— EXTRAVERSION . . . 


195 


X. — Identification . 


2IO 


XI. — Slips, Accidents, and Omissions 


227 


XII. — Dependence and Sex 


243 


Bibliography .... 


. 26l 


Index ..... 


269 



XI 



PSYCHANALYSIS IN THE 
CLASSROOM 



PSYGHANALYSIS IN THE 
CLASSROOM 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

Psychanalysis is neither a science nor a theory. 
It is a method, a technique, that has been devel- 
oped in connection with the treatment of 
" nervous' ' diseases. We owe its discovery to 
Professor Sigmund Freud. 

The precise nature of this method will not be 
definitely spoken of in what follows, for the reason 
that teachers are not likely to be concerned at all 
with the actual analysis of pupils. This is a 
matter for specialists with experience, training 
and opportunities that are not likely to fall to 
the lot of the teacher occupied with his own 
professional duties and responsibilities. 

It is hardly too much to say that psychanalysis 
grew up by chance. It was discovered to be a 
method which "worked," though the reasons 
why were by no means clear. But no method 

3 



4 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

can exist and be developed without a theory or a 
number of theories springing up at the same time, 
as attempts at explanation are made. 

Theory develops out of practice. The theory 
makes possible advances in practice. The 
advances in practice broaden the theory. The 
broadened theory makes possible further develop- 
ments of practice. And so on. Theory and 
practice develop together and in conjunction with 
one another. Practice that has not the sanction 
of a body of theory is likely to degenerate into 
mere mechanical rule-of-thumb routine. Theory 
that develops independently of practice is likely 
to become mere academic lumber. 

Out of the practice of psychanalysis, then, has 
grown a body of theory to which the name 
"analytical psychology " has been applied, and 
which it seems probable will in the future be 
known by this name. The practice and the theory 
alike are to-day in a very flourishing state, as the 
flood of books dealing with both sufficiently 
testifies. Differences of opinion regarding both 
exist, and adherents of one view or another are 
grouping themselves into "schools." 

In spite of differences, however, there exists 
a body of doctrine concerning which there is 
general agreement, and it is this which is of 
importance to those who, whilst not wishing to 
specialise in psychanalysis or analytic psychology, 
yet wish to acquaint themselves with a subject 



INTRODUCTION 5 

which is certainly destined to play a great part 
in connection with the life of the future. 

Psychanalysis, as has already been said, devel- 
oped in connection with the treatment of nervous 
diseases. As the theory developed, however, it 
was soon seen that the implications of the method 
were concerned with much more than mental 
pathology. 

Psychanalysis interpreted dreams, but it also 
threw light on the dreams of the great dreamers 
of the race — on literature and art. It ex- 
plained those stories that are so peculiarly like 
dreams, fairy tales and allegories. It made clear 
the meaning of the many things we do daily of 
which we are unconscious, or of which we speak 
as " merely habits/' carried out unintentionally 
and having no meaning. It was employed with 
interesting and illuminating results in the study 
of wit. It has served to explain points in anthro- 
pology, to clear up questions concerning primitive 
thought and conduct. 

In brief, it was found that the theories devel- 
oped out of psychanalytic practice were such as 
could not be ignored by those who were interested 
in human thought. They showed that the mind 
which expresses itself in the dream is always with 
us, however widely awake we may be, and is 
working in us and through us. Previous attempts 
to explain the working of the mind had concerned 
themselves with but a part — with a part which 



6 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

analytic psychology declares to be a small part 
only. 

The practical teacher has always had a certain 
distrust of psychology. It was not that he 
believed it to be wrong, so much as he felt it to be 
inadequate. He found that it helped him very 
little in the classroom. 

The new teachings promise to make psychol- 
ogy adequate. The teacher who is able to make 
himself acquainted with them will discover that 
they help him to explain much in the mental life 
of children which previously puzzled him, and 
which appeared incapable of explanation. The 
older psychology confined its attention to a kind 
of mind which seemed to be strangely absent 
from the children of an ordinary class; which 
was, in fact, the mind of a highly cultured man as 
studied by a highly developed intelligence. It 
was a psychology of the university merely, and 
appeared to be completely detached from the 
life of the classroom. 

Psychanalysis goes to prove that the materials 
from which psychology is to be learned are those 
which the classroom can supply in any desired 
quantity. The actions of children, the mistakes 
they make, their restlessness and fidgeting, the 
artless things they say, the " queer' ' things they 
write and draw, the wandering of their atten- 
tion, their likes and dislikes — these are documents 
from which the teacher is to learn. We are all 



INTRODUCTION 7 

familiar now with the pedagogic doctrines which 
insist that the teacher's business is to watch the 
children, and to refrain from interfering with 
them. Whether we agree or not, it is fairly clear 
that teachers in this country will be expected to 
do a great deal more. But it is quite obvious 
that the observation of children is an essential 
part of the teacher's task, if he is to understand 
the material with which he has to work. It is 
not sufficient to realise in a general way that each 
child is an individual problem, unless one is 
prepared at the same time to discover the precise 
nature of the individual problem in all its details, 
and to apply oneself to its satisfactory solution. 

But analytical psychology goes farther. It 
enables the teacher to understand himself, and to 
realise that a great many of the difficulties that 
occur in his work are the result of tendencies in 
himself. To realise also, that a great many beliefs 
to which he clings, as well as a great many of 
his practices, have no sounder basis than these 
tendencies; and that the reasons he advances in 
support of both are not so much reasons as excuses. 
The understanding of himself and of his pupils 
by the teacher must in the end do much to alter 
the character of the struggle between both that 
goes on ceaselessly in the classroom; that results 
in wasted effort, discouragement, misunder- 
standing and inefficiency. 

That there are directions in which our education 



8 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

is inefficient, goes without saying: every teacher 
will admit it, since our education has no more 
thoughtful and severe critics than the teachers 
themselves. Nor has it any more devoted well- 
wishers. 

Most of the waste in modern education prob- 
ably results from the fact that our system fails 
to suit a great many pupils. It suits the bulk, 
and is so far satisfactory. But each pupil is an 
individual problem, and consequently many of 
our children are sufficiently far removed from a 
"mean" for the bulk of the teacher's efforts on 
their behalf to be unproductive of any good 
result. 

The obvious remedy is out of the question on 
account of the cost — the " obvious remedy,' 9 that 
is, of a private tutor for every pupil who is so 
constituted that he cannot work in a class. But 
it is possible that some understanding of the pupil 
can be gained that will give the clue to the reason 
why he has failed to adapt himself to his fellows; 
more, that will make it possible for the teacher 
to assist the pupil in bringing about the neces- 
sary adaptation, with beneficial results for his 
happiness and success. 

So much must be the excuse for adding another 
to the already formidable bulk of works dealing 
with the subject of psychanalysis. The average 
man has neither time to read nor money to buy the 
majority, nor has he the special knowledge which 



INTRODUCTION 9 

an understanding of the best demands. But he is 
able to understand and appreciate the theories of 
analytical psychology, provided they are presented 
in a manner that is free from novel technical 
terms, and illustrated from material with which 
he is familiar. The average man has little 
acquaintance with lunatics or with insanity, but 
he has a great interest in himself, in other men 
and women, and in children, and this interest will 
be increased if he is able to look at them with 
heightened understanding. 

The following pages, therefore, deal with 
examples that have been taken from children and 
adults who are normal, or who are so little removed 
from the normal that we are likely to meet them 
in the daily life of the home and of the school- 
room. The theory has been developed from these 
examples. It may seem, in some instances, that 
the deductions that have been drawn are more 
complete and more dogmatically stated than the 
material seems to warrant. This is due to con- 
siderations of space, since it would have been 
possible to produce many times as many cases as 
have actually been presented, and to quote a great 
deal of material tending to confirm the theoretical 
statements that have been made. But every 
reader, every teacher and parent more especially, 
will be able to supplement from his own experience 
the cases that have been given. And if he finds 
that the theory throws light on his work and makes 



io PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

clear points that have puzzled him, so that it 
appears to him worth following up, he will find 
at the end of the book a bibliography that will 
serve as a guide to the more important books 
dealing with the subject, with the aid of which 
he will be able to study analytical psychology in 
all its bearings. He will discover, whether he 
reads of the interpretation of dreams, or of fairy 
tales, or of myths and legends, or of the more 
medical applications of psychanalysis, that, in the 
end, the implications of analytical psychology 
are all concerned with education — with the errors 
that have in the past been made in education and 
in life, of the individual and the race. And in 
precisely the same way that a great science of 
health has grown up as a direct result of the 
study of disease, so should a great science and 
practice of sound education develop as men in 
general become acquainted with the nature and 
results of the errors that have been made in educa- 
tion. And towards such a science and practice 
the contribution of teachers should be one by 
no means small. 



CHAPTER II 

THE DAYDREAM 

Daydreaming is a phenomenon so universal 
and so generally recognised that we may very well 
begin with it in our attempts to investigate 
aspects of mental life that have hitherto been 
ignored, wholly or in part by pedagogical 
psychology. 

Every adult finds, to a greater or less extent, 
that logical coherent thought demands a real 
effort. Children experience this even more. 
Consequently, a slight amount of concentration 
is followed by a tendency to "wander"; the 
mind following its own bent. The mind, we 
may say, if we wish to picture the process, has 
to be forced back to the line that we wish it to 
follow whenever we want to think logically. 

The teacher, concerned very much with the 
problem presented by this tendency of the mind 
to wander, has given a great deal of study to the 
question of the ways in which he may arrest the 
attention of the child. Much school apparatus 
and many teaching methods have come into 

ii 



12 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

existence as a result. For the general public, 
courses in concentration and mental training are 
at the moment widely advertised, all of which 
are designed to prevent this "mind- wandering' ' 
to which we have referred, or at least to reduce 
it to a minimum. 

The associated problems of why the mind 
should wander, and the nature of its wanderings, 
have received less consideration. 

At first sight, one would be inclined to attribute 
the refusal of the mind to continue a logical train 
of thought as due to fatigue. Fatigue should be 
followed by rest. But experience goes to show 
that the mind is not resting. In concentrated 
attention, our difficulty is not so much to compel 
the mind to be active, as to direct and control 
its activity. We must not, however, assert 
immediately that there is no fatigue, for personal 
experience goes to show that there is. It would 
seem as if the mind worked along lines of activity 
that were easier to follow than those along which 
we attempt to direct it. 

The nature of this activity appears to be 
similar in all individuals. In the lapses between 
periods of concentration images present them- 
selves to the mind, images which have the 
vividness of actual reality, arranged coherently. 
These make up what has been variously called 
the daydream, the reverie, the fantasy, or the 
11 brown study.' ' 



THE DAYDREAM 13 

In vividness and distinctness daydreams vary 
greatly with different individuals. Some people 
lose contact with the real world altogether, and 
return to life as if from a sleep. Others remain 
conscious of what is going on about them, and are 
able to act and to speak consciously and intelli- 
gently, living simultaneously in two worlds, as 
it were. 

The occasions of daydreaming are similar in 
all individuals. Whenever continued attention 
is demanded, as in the course of a lecture or a 
sermon, the tendency to lapse into the daydream 
manifests itself. At first it is repressed, but 
unless the lecture or sermon be unusually inter- 
esting, it gains the day. There are few auditors 
who do not yield, for longer or shorter periods, 
to the tendency; lose contact with what is 
actually said, and abandon themselves to contem- 
plation of the imaginary pictures which the mind 
presents to them. 

If this be so in the case of the adult auditor, 
whom we may presume to be trained to habits 
of concentrated attention, much more so is it 
the case with children. How much of a teacher's 
time is wasted in giving lessons to which some 
members of his class, at least, are not attending? 
It is impossible to answer this question with 
quantitative precision, but an indication of the 
amount is afforded by the revision which is 
necessary, and which wastes so much of the time 



14 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

of pupils and teachers alike; and by the way in 
which we are compelled to keep back apparently 
intelligent children in order that they may go 
once more over the ground that seemed to be 
covered efficiently in the previous year. 

These considerations sufficiently warrant an 
attempt to understand the daydream completely, 
and to discover if possible from it something of 
the nature of the mind. 

It is very difficult to obtain material for the 
study of daydreams. The majority of people 
are very reticent about them, and make evasive 
excuses of some sort or another when they are 
asked to narrate them. Frequently they say 
that they are unable to remember what their 
daydreams are like, or that these are so frag- 
mentary that they cannot piece them together 
into any sort of connected narrative. Other 
people will say that their daydreams are " silly" 
or "ridiculous"; whilst others will say that 
their daydreams are so intimate and private a 
part of themselves that they do not feel that 
they can reveal them. 

There is the further fact to be considered that 
a great many people prefer daydreaming to 
thought, and deliberately place themselves in 
surroundings and in circumstances which favour 
this form of mental activity. The real delight 
of idling in fields or on hill-tops, of twilight or 
darkness or dim lights, of the glow of the fire- 



THE DAYDREAM 15 

side, is that here we have circumstances where 
the appeal of the real world is less insistent, and 
in which we are the more easily able to abandon 
ourselves to reverie. 

From these facts, therefore, which are extremely- 
well known, we are able at once to draw the 
following conclusions : — 

(1) For most people daydreaming is a pleasur- 
able activity. 

(2) The subject of the daydream is one which 
the higher qualities of the mind — leaving out 
of the question, for the moment, what these may 
happen to be — do not approve; but condemn as 
frivolous, or at least sufficiently alien from the 
character we wish to present to other people to 
warrant us in refraining from communicating our 
reveries. 

The first of these characteristics brings us at 
once into contact with one of the fundamental 
conceptions of the newer psychological teachings. 
It is that our thought falls into one of two well- 
defined categories: we think either in connection 
with " pleasure," or with "reality." The im- 
plications of this conception are many, and we 
shall return to the subject again. 

The second characteristic seems to imply that 
we have working within us a mind, or a depart- 
ment of the mind, whose activities are of a nature 
that we do not approve. We regard them as 
not in keeping with our character: we are in- 



16 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

clined to mild disapprobation and concealment 
in respect of them. 

Further characteristics are revealed by the 
study of actual daydreams. 

The simplest are naturally those of very young 
children, but they present the difficulty that they 
occur before the child has acquired the art of 
expressing himself by means of speech, so that 
we are often compelled to gather from his actions 
the thoughts that prompt them. 

Case I. A girl of three years of age called one 
morning from her cot to her father, "Dadda, 
there's a little girl in my bed." Her father 
replied, "If there is, you had better bring her 
down to breakfast with you." The child appeared 
in the breakfast-room, leading an imaginary girl 
by the hand. 

At the table, she devoted all her attention 
to the imaginary guest, offering her bread and 
butter, egg and coffee. She neglected to eat 
at all herself. So, after a time, her father said, 
"I think that the little girl has made a capital 
breakfast. Send her away now." The child 
got down from her chair, led the imaginary child 
to the door, which she opened and by which she 
stood waving her hand while she said, "Good- 
bye, little girl. Come again soon." Then she 
returned to the table, to eat her own breakfast 
with a vigour that showed how much she had 



THE DAYDREAM 17 

restrained herself while attending to the guest. 

In the street, this child was much interested 
in other " little girls/ ' Frequently she would 
go to strange children and ask them their names. 

One morning, after she had been for a walk 
with her aunt, she told her mother, "This 
morning Aunty took me in the tram. There 
was a nice little girl there. She asked me what 
my name was, and I told her. Then she asked 
me if I would like a chocolate, and when I said 
'yes/ she gave me a lovely big one." 

The whole story is quite untrue to fact. 

More recently, when she was nearly four years 
old, she was staying in a house where the people 
were unable to give much time or attention to 
her. She was thrown entirely upon her own 
resources and her toys for amusement. It was 
noticed before long that she was talking as if 
another child were present. For the imaginary 
companion she chose the name " Glycerine.' ' 

Her uncle, to tease her, pretended to take a 
great deal of interest in Glycerine. He went 
through the motions of lifting a little girl to his 
knee, and began to talk to her. The child was 
astounded for a few moments, but said, " Glycerine 
can't be on your knee. She's over here. She's 
playing with me." 

"So she is," said he. "Come here, Glycerine." 
Again he went through the movement of lifting 
a child to his knee. Then the girl said trium- 



18 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

phantly, "She isn't on your knee at all. She's 
gone home." 

The child was persuaded to talk about Glycer- 
ine, whom she described as a very amiable little 
girl, able and willing to play well, and interested 
in the things her creator was doing. But a little 
later, when an aunt, reproving the child for some 
fault, said, "I am sure that Glycerine never does 
naughty things like that," the child at once 
retorted angrily, "Oh yes, she does. She's a 
very naughty little girl." 

Later, when the uncle and aunt had left the 
house, and the child remained with her grand- 
mother and her toys, Glycerine once more came 
to play with her. 

The daydream structure that is shown in this 
case is one that is simple and that easily lends 
itself to interpretation. The wish to have other 
"little girls" as playmates or companions and 
to know them, is shown in the daydream and in 
behaviour in the street. But the relation that is 
assumed is, in general, one of dominance on the 
part of the creator, and of subordination on the 
part of the imaginary companion. The child 
takes the initiative in inquiring the names of 
other children, and it is she who decides the 
actions of Glycerine and the imaginary guest at 
the breakfast-table; issuing orders and giving 
instructions. She wishes to have the imaginary 



THE DAYDREAM 19 

companion as her own completely, and a strong 
motive of jealousy impels her to send it away so 
soon as there is a question of its allegiance being 
divided, even though this deprives her of the 
pleasure of the company of a being specially 
created to give her this pleasure. 

Here, then, we have revealed stong motives, 
which are of the nature of instinctive motives. 
It is doubtful if we can analyse motives farther 
than this, and at present psychologists seem 
inclined to regard the instinct as the fundamental 
element of behaviour. We have therefore, adopt- 
ing McDougall's terminology, the gregarious 
instinct, manifesting itself in the wish to have 
companions; the instinct of self -assertion y 
shown in the wish to dominate the imaginary 
companion, and in the act of forcing acquaintance 
on strange children encountered by chance in 
the street; and the instinct of possession, or 
acquisition, displayed in the desire to have sole 
rights of ownership in the imaginary companion. 

McDougall has conceived the instincts as 
innate tendencies to act and to feel in certain 
ways, transmitted through heredity and as con- 
stant for any given species of animals. If they 
are baffled or restrained, unpleasant emotion is 
experienced, which may range from a slight feel- 
ing of restlessness or discomfort to rage. When 
they are permitted to act smoothly, to continue 
uninterruptedly from inception to their final 



20 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

end, the emotions are pleasurable. Further, 
McDougall believes that each instinct has its 
own peculiar kind of pleasurable emotion, which 
belongs to it and to no other. 

The girl referred to under Case I. was an only 
child, and had few opportunities of companion- 
ship with children of her own age. She was 
surrounded by adults. In the presence of older 
people a child is at a marked disadvantage. 
Its physical powers are feebler, it is compelled 
to obey its elders and has no power to coerce 
them, it is not permitted to act as they do. It 
is conscious at most times of a very marked 
inferiority. But it has within it, as certainly 
as the adult, an instinct which would lead it 
to display and assert itself, and to experience 
the feeling of elation that follows the successful 
functioning of this instinct. No action of those 
about it can destroy the instinct. At most it 
is repressed. 

But if in the real world the instinct is denied 
expression, it is possible to the child to construct 
an ideal world, a kingdom of the imagination, 
in which self-assertion is possible, and in con- 
nection with which elation may be experienced. 
In this conception we find a possible clue to the 
purpose of the daydream— it permits expression 
of instinctive motives which are repressed in 
the real world. 

The occasion of the daydream would therefore 



THE DAYDREAM 21 

seem to be some deficiency of the environment. 
Ideal surroundings would be those in which 
every power was afforded opportunity for com- 
plete functioning. Few, if any, individuals are 
so environed. Some instincts are inevitably 
repressed, and it is to afford opportunities of- 
gratification to these, even if it be a merely ideal 
gratification, that the daydream is generated. 

It would seem, then, on the basis of the one 
daydream that we have so far examined in detail, 
as if the cause of the daydream were to be found 
in our instinctive motives, its occasion in the 
repression of some of these motives by the nature 
of our environment, and its purpose in the gratifi- 
cation of the motives that are repressed. 

We may regard the daydream, in so far as it 
is concerned with the making good by the imagina- 
tion of the deficiencies of the environment, as 
having a compensatory function. The nature of 
the compensation is, however, not so much to 
supply something that is missing, as to afford 
opportunities that are wanting. The point is 
important. In the case of the daydream under 
discussion, the compensation that is afforded 
by the daydream is not so much the result of 
the way in which it supplies "little girls," as of 
the way in which it provides opportunities for 
the exercise of repressed instinctive activities that 
cannot function in the absence of "little girls." 

It is quite clear, moreover, that a great deal 



22 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

of effort has gone to the construction of the fan- 
tasy that has been quoted. It may be true that 
it has not been felt as effort. It may be true 
that it has not been consciously realised as effort 
of the kind that goes, say, to the deliberate com- 
position of a piece of original fiction. But the 
product must stand as evidence that effort has 
been expended in its creation. This effort must 
be regarded as a measure of the urgency of the 
instinctive motive that required satisfaction. So 
we are led to a conception of the daydream as 
a gauge of the intensity of desire. 

It may very well be urged that we are erecting 
a very tall superstructure of theory on the basis 
of a single daydream. That would be true if 
we had no more than the single daydream to go 
upon. The majority of people will, however, 
be able to confirm every one of the conclusions 
enunciated above from daydreams of their own; 
and parents and teachers — every one, in fact, who 
comes into intimate contact with young children — 
will have met with instances similar to the day- 
dream that has been quoted as an example. 

Case II. A girl, aged four years, invented 
an imaginary companion named Annie Foxford. 
Immediately her breakfast was over, she would 
open the door to Annie, who came in and played 
all day with her creator. The fantasy persisted 
until the seventh year. 



THE DAYDREAM 23 

Case III. A girl of about three years of age, 
had two imaginary companions, who used to 
enter the house by the window. To one of these 
she gave the name of "Body." At times the 
child performed a number of amazing contortions, 
which Body was supposed to witness with 
pleasure. 

These fantasies illustrate no new points beyond 
those already discovered in the study of Case I. 



Case IV. P. S., a boy, has been from his 
earliest days greatly interested in railway trains. 
Till lately he has been interested in no other toys. 
He has asked for pictures of trains and has made 
endeavours to draw them. He asks adults to 
draw trains for him, and cries if the train is not 
satisfactory. When taken out for walks he invari- 
ably asks that he shall be taken somewhere near 
the railway. 

He \vas once taken to Fratton Station. He 
would have remained on the platform for ever, 
watching trains coming and going. He has 
learned the names of a number of colours as a 
result of the attempt to distinguish between differ- 
ent engines, and the lights and colours of signals. 
He has also acquired an unusually good vocabulary 
as a consequence of the endeavour to understand 
the answers given to the many questions he asks. 



24 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

He has no brother, and but one sister, much 
older than himself, and with little time or patience 
to play games with him. His father is a busy- 
man, and his mother's time is rather fully occupied. 
As a result, he is often lonely. 

Soon after he was three years of age, it was 
noticed that frequently he would leave his play 
with his toy trains and begin to walk in a peculiar 
manner in a small circle. At the same time he 
usually inserted a finger in his mouth, and 
muttered nonsense syllables, often with pro- 
nounced rhythm. 

Soon after this he began to speak of a child 
called "Mary." Mary was a very vague and 
indefinite being, since at times he spoke of her 
as taller than his mother, and at other times as 
shorter than himself. The larger Mary was a 
person whom he asked to do things that he was 
unable to do for himself; the smaller a girl who 
played with him, and who was generally under 
his orders. 

Within a few weeks the fantasy grew very 
definite. Mary was a girl, smaller than himself, 
who lived with her mother in a shop near Racken 
(Fratton?) Station. The walking to which refer- 
ence has already been made was now spoken of 
as playing with Mary, and the muttering as talking 
to Mary. 

He has lately frequently asked for things that 
his parents have had to refuse him: expensive 



THE DAYDREAM 25 

toys or books. His retort has been on such 
occasions, "Never mind. There's one in Mary's 
mother's shop." 

He has compared Mary's mother with his 
own, to the disadvantage, as a rule, of the latter. 
Seeing his mother preparing food, he has asked, 
"What are you making?" 

"A pudding," his mother has said. 

"What is there in it?" 

"Red currants." 

"Mary's mother," he said very slowly and 
impressively, "made a very large pudding the 
other day." 

"Larger than this?" asked his mother. 

"Much larger," said he, and added, "there 
were plums in Mary's mother's pudding." 

In the garden a similar scene occurred. His 
mother had been picking raspberries and filling 
a basin with them. F. S. was in the garden with 
her. After a while he said, "Mary's mother 
gets her raspberries in a bucket." 

"Does she?" asked his mother; and held 
out two or three raspberries to him. He took 
them. Before he ate them he said, "Mary's 
mother always gives Mary the bucket." 

On one occasion, when in disgrace for some 
fault, he burst into tears and went from the room. 
He reached the street door, which he opened, 
and went into the road. He was brought back 
at once. He explained later on that he was going 



26 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to Mary's mother to live with her, because she 
was always kind. 

It is difficult to know in this particular case 
how far the child is aware of the imaginary nature 
of the companions he has created. On one occa- 
sion I gave him money to buy chocolate at Mary's 
mother's shop, after he had assured me that 
chocolate was to be bought there. Without 
hesitation he walked along the street, passing 
the near-by confectioners' shops. It was not 
possible at the time to test him by allowing him 
to walk as far as he would, and by following him 
at a distance. He was brought back after he 
had gone a quarter of a mile or so, and the 
chocolate was bought for him at a shop in the 
neighbourhood. 

At the time of writing this account, the fantasy 
still persists. 

It is possible to discover in this more elaborate 
fantasy some of the elements already presented 
to us in simpler examples. The dancing in the 
presence of Mary, the domination of the imaginary 
companion in the games, appear both to be con- 
nected with the instinct of self-assertion or dis- 
play. The desire for a companion is motivated 
by the gregarious instinct. 

But there are also new features to be noted. 
Behind the imaginary companion there stands 
a remote and imaginary mother, who is contrasted 



THE DAYDREAM 27 

with his own mother, to the latter's disadvantage. 
This mother keeps a shop, filled with all the things 
he wishes for, and which his own mother is unable 
to procure for him. He has perceived, it would 
seem, the limitations of his own mother, and has 
created another mother, who is not limited, but 
who has all the characteristics of the mother he 
would wish to have. 

Most of us have realised that as we have grown 
we have lost something of the sense of wonder with 
which all things were invested in our early days. 
Unless we have been fortunate enough to be so 
situated that new worlds of knowledge are con- 
tinually opening before us, worlds of science, 
of literature or of art, we have become painfully 
aware that increasing familiarity with the things 
that surround us has resulted in something that 
approaches disillusionment. We have regretted 
or resented the change. Something of this is 
expressed in the way in which we invest our past 
childhood with a romance that it did not possess 
at the time that we were children; or the way 
in which we express half-serious wishes to have 
our childhood over again. It is this feeling that 
motivates our idealisations of childhood, and which 
underlies such lines as Wordsworth's : — 

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: 
The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 
Hath had elsewhere its setting, 



28 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

And cometh from afar; 
Not in entire forgetfulness, 
And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
From God, Who is our home : 
Heaven lies about us in our infancy !"' 

and: — 

"Thou little child, yet glorious in the might 
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, 
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke 
The years to bring the inevitable yoke, 
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? 
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight 
And custom lie upon thee with a weight 
Heavy as frost and deep almost as life!" 

It will be necessary to return again to the 
question of the child's conception of his environ- 
ment. It is sufficient for the moment to insist 
upon the causes that underlie the process of dis- 
illusionment to which we have referred. The 
child learns as he grows, and as his powers and his 
desires increase, that the persons who surround 
him are smaller and less powerful than he once 
thought them; and the process of restraining 
his activities by others makes them seem less kind. 
So great is the gap between the parents he now 
discovers and their appearance as he remembers 
it, that it is by no means uncommon for the child 



THE DAYDREAM 29 

of three years of age to assert that the people who 
are now in charge of him are not his parents. He 
imagines himself in the position of the heroine 
of the folk-story, whose parents were dead, and 
who was ill-treated by her step-parents. Children 
of this age sometimes say to their mothers, ''You 
are not my mother/ ' 

The boy referred to in Case IV. has apparently 
reached such a stage. The contrast of his mother 
with Mary's mother has emphasised: — 

(1) Mary's mother has the things which his 
own mother is unable to procure. 

(2) All that Mary's mother does is on a larger 
scale than the things his own mother can do. 
(Cf. basin and bucket; currant and plum; pud- 
ding with very large pudding. His statement 
that "Mary's mother gives Mary the bucket," 
really implies, "You give me very little, whilst 
Mary's mother would give me everything.") 

(3) Mary's mother is always kind. 

It is clear, therefore, that Mary's mother 
embodies a number of wishes. The child still 
loves the mother of his earliest childhood: the 
mother who gave him everything, who seemed 
to do great things, and who was always kind to 
him. The fantasy shows therefore a failure to 
adapt himself to the facts of existence, and a 
tendency to hark back to a former, and now 
idealised period of life. Some part of the child, 



30 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

it would seem, has not grown up, but remains 
anchored to a stage of life, the remainder having 
grown beyond it. We have the bodily, and in some 
respects the mental powers of a child of three 
years or more, bound up with the wishes, the 
instinctive motives, of a much younger child. 
This is an instance of what the psychanalysts 
term fixation. It is as if a stream were partially 
dammed near its source. 

Will this ever be remedied? We shall return 
again to this point. But it is important to realise 
that we meet with infantile traits in boys at school, 
and even in the case of adult men of the world. 
It is by no means uncommon to discover that a 
man who is able to talk as an expert about a 
number of matters is able to do little more than 
become red in the face, to stutter and gesticulate 
when others are mentioned in his presence. 
We shall discover reasons for attributing conduct 
of this sort also to a fixation upon an infantile 
stage of existence. 

It seems possible also to see in the conduct 
that has been described as walking in a circle and 
"talking to Mary" a symptom of this reversion 
to a fixed point of early childhood. Perhaps we 
are here on ground that is less sure, but the facts 
certainly lend themselves to this interpretation. 
In reality we have not one symptom, but three; 
which are : — 

(i) The walking, or dancing, within a small area. 



THE DAYDREAM 31 

(2) The insertion of a finger or thumb in the 
mouth. 

(3) The muttering of incoherent sounds. 

The first and the third of these are, I think, 
to be regarded as repetitions of the first efforts 
to walk and to talk, which drew so much attention 
to himself from his parents. He is able to run 
about quite well now, and to talk plainly and 
intelligently, but these perfected efforts do not 
call forth the same surprise and pleased comment 
that were elicited by the infantile performances. 
In the attempt to attract attention to himself, 
he therefore reverts to the infantile stage of 
experience. We have here what psychanalysts 
call regression. 

The sucking of fingers recalls the pleasure 
that was experienced in early days when he was 
fed by his mother; a pleasure that is of a twofold 
nature. There is first the gratification of the 
cravings of the instinct of hunger. Second, 
there is the gratification caused by gentle pressure 
on the particular kind of bodily tissue found in 
association with the lips, where mucous membrane 
passes into epithelium. 

These symptoms may therefore be regarded as 
indicating the wish to regain the pleasure and 
approval of the parents and the devotion of the 
mother. They express wishes arising out of the 
instinct of self-assertion or display. The inter- 



32 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

pretation here given is consistent with that given 
to the daydream. 

The view of the daydream that has been sug- 
gested in the brief analyses here given has the 
merit that it makes of the daydream a document 
from which those who have to do with children 
may learn a great deal of the deeper motives of 
the child. When we have tested and measured 
and weighed the child, and have read into him 
the psychology that has been accumulated as a 
result of the introspective study of the adult 
intelligence, we feel that we are at a loss to 
understand many of the things that he does. Any 
evidence that we can get directly from the child 
himself is of value. We have here attempted 
to regard the daydream as a document emanating 
from the child himself, in which he states, in 
language that is not really difficult to interpret, 
exactly what it is that he wishes. We find in 
it a criticism of the people about him and of his 
surroundings. It is notoriously difficult to obtain 
from a child a critical opinion, since children are, 
as a rule, anxious to tell us what they think we 
should like them to say. If the daydream can 
be regarded as a document, it is all the more 
valuable, since the child, in narrating his fantasy 
to us, has not the least idea of what it means. 
The child whose daydreams have just been dealt 
with would certainly not criticise his mother, 
as we have discovered he is doing, if he were 



THE DAYDREAM 33 

asked by her or by a friendly adult for his opinion 
of her. The daydream is to be regarded as 
evidence, and as evidence that has not been 
tampered with. 

The daydreams of adults naturally enough 
differ very considerably from those of children. 
It is important to inquire whether a gap separates 
them, so that we have to draw a hard-and-fast 
line between the methods we have applied to the 
understanding of the latter from those we are 
to apply to the former; or whether it is possible 
to show that there is a continuous process at 
work, in virtue of which the one becomes insen- 
sibly the other; or whether the difference is 
one of form only, due to the developed ability 
of the adult, so that the daydreams, apparently so 
different, are really the same, and in the daydream 
the adult remains a child. 

The account which follows is given at great 
length, because it is of special interest, as showing 
the way in which a system of fantasy has consis- 
tently developed from the age of three to the 
present day, when the subject is fourteen years of 
age, a normal and very intelligent girl. 

Case V. M. S. was an only child. Up to the 
age of about three she had no companions. She 

was taken to W at Christmas, and while there 

met a family named Binks. The Binks children 
played with her and paid her considerable attention. 



34 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Soon after her return home she invented an 
imaginary companion, to whom she gave the name 
of Nelly Binks. The origin of the name of Nelly 
cannot be traced, since no member of the real 
Binks family had this name. 

It was Nelly's function to be at the disposal 
of her creator in every way: to play with her 
the games she suggested, and to listen to recitations 
and speeches. 

Before very long Nelly was replaced by a whole 
family, of which M. S. was the head. Later still 
the family became a nation, then a people — the 
distinction between "nation" and "people" 
is not very clear, though the latter was conceived 
as something much bigger and more important — 
and finally a world. 

The members of this world were at first 
regarded as rather apart, it appears, from their 
creator, for Nelly Binks was looked upon as their 
queen. M. S., at some time, however, decided 
that she would herself be queen. She arranged 
a coronation ceremony in the garden. It was at 
a time of the year when the lawn was covered 
with clover. She made a crown of these flowers 
and crowned herself in the presence of her subjects. 

The people had by now become so definite 
that a name was necessary for them. She decided 
to call them the Imaginary People. The origin 
of this name is to be found, I think, in the fact 
that her father was interested in mathematics, 



THE DAYDREAM 35 

and used to speak to his daughter of a great many- 
things that were in advance of what children of 
her age generally learn; so that amongst other 
matters she had heard of imaginary numbers. 
The idea of numbers of this kind, that could not 
be represented as other numbers are, had captured 
her imagination. 

The assemblies of the imaginary people were 
held indoors, with the single exception of the 
coronation ceremony. M. S. still recollects sitting 
up in bed, saying over the poetry that she had 
learned in school, while the crowd listened with 
admiration. So soon as she had learned the 
Decalogue, she recited it to her people, and it 
was unanimously adopted as the basis of the law 
of the community. Other laws and regulations 
have been added, the latest being a series of restric- 
tions on the hours during which licensed premises 
may remain open. 

M. S. finds a great deal of difficulty in expressing 
herself at all well. She is diffident. She accounts 
to some extent for this by recalling that she was 
once reproved by her mother for referring in 
school exercises to matters which are generally 
not spoken of outside the family in which they 
occur. She took the reproof to heart a great 
deal, saying that if she could not be allowed to 
say what was true, she would say nothing. The 
English work in the school she attends does not 
allow her a great deal of scope, being confined 



36 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to parsing, analysis, paraphrasis of, and comment 
on " classic' ' texts. Poetry has no beauty for 
her, since it is merely material for grammatical 
exercises. 

She has always been a little gauche and awkward 
and is not good at games. As a result, she has 
always seemed somewhat out of the life of her 
class, though her form position has always been 
good, and she is one of the youngest girls in her 
form. She says that no one in her form appears 
to want her, and that all through her school 
life she has been left to herself very much. Her 
schoolfellows regard her as clever, but odd. 

Since the coronation ceremony, spoken of above, 
she has continually worn white clover whenever 
she can get it. It was rather scarce in the garden 
last summer, and she spoke of buying seed with 
her pocket-money to renew the supply. Whether 
she carried out this plan, I do not know. She 
explains her fondness for white clover to all but 
the four or five people who are in her secret as 
due to a belief that the flower is lucky. In reality, 
she has no superstitions of the kind. 

One girl alone, of all her schoolfellows, knows 
of the fantasy, and she only a small part. To her, 
M. S. occasionally writes notes, which she sub- 
scribes "Q. of I." (i.e. Queen of the Imaginary 
People). 

I have known M. S. from birth, and have known 
of the stages in the growth of the fantasy. I am 



THE DAYDREAM 37 

certain that it has grown up independently of 
suggestion from outside sources. She has allowed 
her father and mother to know something of the 
matter, but much less than she has told me. They 
have refrained from interference of any sort 
whatsoever, neither checking it nor encouraging it. 

She has lately felt the need of making the 
fantasy rational, as her experience of the world 
has increased. She is loth to abandon the day- 
dream, but she has had to face the fact that 
existence of the ordinary sort is out of the question 
for these people. She now regards them as 
existing in the Fourth Dimension. 

M. S. has been exceptionally frank with me up 
to a point. She has refused to tell me anything 
of the nature of the proceedings of the assemblies 
as they take place at the present day. But I 
was able to come to fairly definite conclusions 
from things that she has allowed to let slip from 
time to time. I asked her casually one day if 
the people still worshipped her, and she replied, 
"Why, yes, I suppose so." Afterwards she was 
curious as to how I knew, since she could not 
recollect telling me anything about this phase. 

The fantasy just narrated is of interest inasmuch 
as it reveals wishes which increase in intensity 
with increasing age. The desire for assertion 
and display which is at first satisfied with a single 
companion, later demands in turn the homage of a 



38 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

family, a nation, a people and a world ; appearing 
at last to require the adoration that belongs 
to a god. We are reminded of the folk-story of 
''The Fisherman and his Wife," in Grimm's 
collection. The clover is worn to remind her 
continually of her rank: she clings to it as tena- 
ciously as some people to robes, insignia, medals 
and ribbons. 

We meet here also with the conflict between 
the daydream and reality, a conflict of the greatest 
importance in the psychology of the individual. 
The child gains from her daydream a pleasure 
that makes it impossible for her to leave it. The 
hardships of reality are in part compensated for 
by the assurance that, however little her com- 
panions may esteem her, she is in reality a queen, 
acknowledged as such by millions of subjects. 
At night, when her lessons are finished, she may 
retire to her room and lie awake in the darkness, 
expressing herself in the way she wishes to do, 
and receiving the adulation for which she craves. 
At school, nobody pays marked attention to her; 
in her kingdom of fantasy every one is subservient 
to her. Following out a suggestion made by 
Professor McDougall, I asked M. S. what she 
would do to a disobedient or rebellious subject. 
She was astonished at the question, but told me 
that, not only had no subject ever rebelled or 
disobeyed her, but that she was quite unable to 
imagine any one ever doing so. 



THE DAYDREAM 39 

Her instinctive wishes, therefore, demand the 
continuance of the daydream. Her growing in- 
telligence tends to assure her of its impossibility, 
and urges her to abandon it. This is the conflict, 
then, between that side of her which craves for 
" pleasure' ' and that side of her which appreciates 
11 reality." The result, in this particular instance, 
is that her intelligence is forced to act under the 
compulsion of her instinctive wishes, and to 
fabricate a reason why the daydream shall be allowed 
to persist. It does so, assuring her that the 
daydream is entirely reasonable in view of her 
beliefs in respect of the fourth dimension. This 
"making reasonable" of something that is 
opposed to reality is the process that is termed 
rationalisation by the psychanalysis. 

There are really three possible ways out of 
the difficulty, which may be tabulated as follows : — 

(1) The adoption of "reality," and the aban- 
donment of the fantasy. 

(2) The "rationalisation" of the fantasy. 

(3) The adoption of the fantasy, and the 
abandonment of "reality." 



The last is madness, insanity. Many of the 
patients in the wards of asylums are people who 
pass the whole of their existence, believing in 
the truth of a daydream, and in the convic- 
tion that the "reality" of their fellows is a 
delusion. 



40 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

The first is an ideal sanity, one which probably 
very few people achieve. But it is part of the 
function of education to lead the child from 
fantasy, where the principle of subjective and 
egoistic pleasure predominates, to "reality," 
so far as this has been attained by the culture 
of his time. To lead, be it noted; for it would 
seem that coercion is not only dangerous, but that 
it is not even successful. 

The majority of men resort, in less or greater 
degree, to " rationalisation/ ' The extreme case 
is where the insane man, who believes himself 
to be an Emperor, explains the indifference with 
which other people regard him as due to a world- 
wide conspiracy engineered by the usurper who 
now occupies the throne that should rightly 
be his. On a different level, though perhaps 
not very different in kind, is the rationalisation 
of the man who excuses excessive smoking on 
the ground that it "soothes his nerves," or drink- 
ing on the ground that alcoholic beverages are 
"nourishing." 

Case VI. J. is a girl of fourteen years of age. 
She tells me that her persistent daydream has 
been to imagine, for as many years back as she 
can remember, that she is a nurse. 

Her aunt is a nurse. J. is, however, certain 
that she has never wished to be like her aunt, 
whose work is concerned entirely with adults. 



THE DAYDREAM 41 

She has never had any ambition, even during 
the days of the war, to be an army nurse. Her 
desire is to be a children's nurse. 

She imagines a very clean ward, with a number 
of very nice, clean children, all arranged exactly 
as she would have it. The children would be 
very obedient, and everything about them would 
be "just so." 

She is very fond of arranging and rearranging 
the furniture of her bedroom, where her belongings 
are kept. Here, again, she is anxious that every- 
thing should be "just so." 

J. says that the lessons in school do not interest 
her. An exception was a lesson in which she was 
told something of the origins of the planets and 
of the sun and the earth. She explains this by 
saying that the origins and beginnings of things 
interest her a great deal. She will often linger 
about the early parts of a book deciding how 
she would arrange the development and end of 
the story. She hurries the later part, to see if the 
author's treatment agrees with what she thinks 
it should be. If not, she is disappointed, and 
derives little pleasure from the book. She is 
not interested in mysteries as such; though it 
pleases her to discover that the solution agrees 
with her own. 

This fantasy again shows strong instinctive 
wishes for self-assertion, for as such we must 



42 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

interpret the desire to govern the lives of children 
and of the characters in works of fiction. The 
same wishes are to be discovered in the changing 
of the places of the articles of furniture of the 
bedroom. The assertion of the self is made 
through domination, rather than by means of 
the display of extravagant feats. The wish to 
govern and control is no less shown in the day- 
dreams of a child who fantasies herself as a nurse, 
and defines a nurse's functions in this particular 
manner, than in the reveries of a child who 
imagines herself a queen. 

It would be easy to quote at length some 
hundreds of daydreams, collected from children 
attending the higher standards of elementary 
schools, or from pupils in secondary schools. 
But no useful purpose would be served. These 
fantasies differ in material details, but the majority 
are concerned with the theme of successful 
display by the dreamer before an applauding 
audience. For convenience they may be grouped 
in the following categories : — 

(i) The Fantasy of Display. The dreamer, 
in some capacity which is usually at variance 
with the facts of real life, performs a feat which 
wins applause for him. 

(2) The Saving Fantasy. The dreamer per- 
forms some act, of which he is in reality incapable, 
by which he saves life, gaining at once the devo- 



THE DAYDREAM 43 

tion of the rescued person (usually of the opposite 
sex), the gratitude of her parents, and the applause 
of bystanders. It is noteworthy that a great 
many boys who indulge in saving fantasies specify 
that the person saved is of higher social stand- 
ing than her rescuer, though this fact makes 
no difference to her attitude towards him. 
Further, a number of daydreams with " display' ' 
characteristics, such as shooting the winning goals 
for a football team, may be regarded as " saving 
fantasies," inasmuch as a great deal of stress is 
laid on the fact that these goals " saved the side." 

(3) The Fantasy of Grandeur. The dreamer 
occupies an exalted role in the daydream, gener- 
ally that of a royal person or a deity, A fairy 
queen, the chief of a band of robbers, " somebody 
known all over the world," the champion boxer 
of the world, etc., are examples taken from the 
daydreams of school children. 

(4) The Fantasy of Homage. Here the dreamer 
by doing a service to some admired person, 
usually a superior, gains the love of the person 
in question. Sometimes the person is of the 
opposite sex to the dreamer, but more often, 
apparently, in school children, of the same sex. 
It is particularly common, as might be expected, 
in girls who are given to " raves" over women 
teachers. 

The simple fantasy of the imaginary companion, 



44 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

with which this study was at first concerned, has 
disappeared when the child is at school. It 
expressed, as we have seen, the cravings of a baffled 
Instinct of Gregariousness, and serves well to 
illustrate the comments of McDougall on this 
instinct: "Its operation in its simplest form 
implies none of the higher qualities of mind, 
neither sympathy nor capacity for mutual aid." 
The instinct is apparently gratified when the 
child goes to school, and real companions make 
imaginary ones unnecessary. 

The fantasies enumerated above express a 
wish for admiration, for elation, the emotion 
which McDougall regards as appropriate to the 
Instinct of Self-Assertion. It is important to 
notice that though the end of the assertion is the 
same, the mode of assertion that is conceived as 
best adapted to attain the end differs. We have 
evidence in the daydream of an attitude towards 
the world. 

The fantasy of homage reveals an attitude 
essentially different from that which is to be found 
in the fantasy of display or of grandeur. The 
one gains its end by subservience, by homage, 
by insinuating conduct; the other by means of a 
forcing upon the attention of onlookers. Adler 
regards these attitudes as " protests' ' against the 
real life, and names them respectively the 
"feminine" and "masculine" protests: unfor- 
tunate terms, since the "masculine" protest 



THE DAYDREAM 45 

is by no means characteristic of males, nor the 
"feminine" protest of females. He conceives 
the attitude which the protest expresses as having 
been formed as a result of perceived inferiority 
in childhood; and believes that a process of 
judgment has decided for the child what place 
he occupies in his environment, and the mode 
he is to adopt in order to attain to his wishes. 
It is certain that children fall sharply into the 
categories of "naughty" or "good," " noisy' ' 
or "quiet," "disobedient" or "obedient," 
"thoughtful" or "thoughtless"; and that they 
exhibit these characteristics from very early years. 
Further, that these attitudes persist through life. 
It cannot be insisted too strongly, however, 
that all fantasies are egoistic in character. There 
is displayed in them a complete absence of any 
lofty moral purpose, even though the modes 
of action they depict may appear blameless. 
The central figure is invariably the dreamer, 
and the end that is striven for is invariably a 
personal and selfish end. I have omitted, for 
the present, abnormal daydreams of an appar- 
ently unpleasant character; but hope to show 
later that these are not to be regarded as excep- 
tions. The feeling that is experienced is a happy 
or pleasant one: children say their daydreams 
"make me very happy," "make me feel pleased 
with myself," or "are much more pleasant than 
real life." 



46 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

The Fantasy of Homage is no exception. One 
girl of fourteen, who narrated for me a long and 
detailed daydream of this sort, stated that her 
wish was that her heroine should love her very 
much, wish to be with her and desirous of doing 
things for her. I find that the other dreamers 
of this sort of daydream say much the same; 
less explicitly, perhaps, but no less unmistakably. 

The egoistic desire manifested in the day- 
dreams is the desire of showing to advantage, 
generally through beating or controlling another. 
At bottom, the fantasy is in general not far 
removed from a daydream of domination. 

The desire of domination expresses itself in 
two differing ways, which are not quite the same 
as the " protests" that have been referred to, 
though the categories to some extent overlap. 
It is not suggested that any of the categories 
mentioned present a final analysis of the matter, 
but they are useful, inasmuch as they permit 
differing angles of approach, and allow the teacher 
to view his children in a number of ways. It 
is extraordinarily difficult to discover means of 
appraising satisfactorily the characters of children. 
Single labels never permit the shades of difference 
that we are able to feel. 

How, then, does the child — or the adult, for 
that matter — set about the task of securing 
domination of the people in his environment 
and of his circumstances? Here, as in war, 



THE DAYDREAM 47 

there are two methods: one that of the direct 
frontal attack, the other that of the strategic 

cLT/GaCJ£» 

The strategist uses thought as a mode. He 
sits in solitude and plans. He fears to act directly. 
He appraises the situation, the opponent. He 
estimates himself. He takes means to augment 
his knowledge. He seldom attacks till he thinks 
himself certain of victory. 

The direct attacker proceeds differently. He 
relies upon action. He seldom troubles to pre- 
pare. Like the bull at the gate, he flings himself 
upon the thing he wishes to master. More often 
than not, the attack is ill-advised. It is as easy 
for him to run away, as a rule, as it is to advance; 
and as easy to advance again. He is swayed by 
feelings. Defeat depresses him, but the depres- 
sion is short-lived. His buoyancy is remarkable. 

We may regard all conduct, all behaviour, as 
consisting in action and reaction between an 
individual and his environment. Life is a con- 
tinual adjustment of both, each to the other. 
The ideal, normal man is concerned with both. 
But with the normal man or child we shall have 
little to do, since these hardly exist outside the 
textbook, as valuable fictions of psychological 
science. The people we shall meet in the world, 
and the children we shall meet in the classroom, 
depart, little or much, from this ideal standard. 

The strategist of whom we have spoken is the 



48 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

type whom Jung has named the "introvert." 
Life for him is not an affair of adjustment of the 
organism and the environment, each to the other. 
He seeks to live by adaptation of himself. He is 
the man who becomes "bookish," a "theorist," 
and at best the capable organiser. He is unfitted, 
as a rule, for an executive job. 

The other, on the contrary, seeks to live by 
modifying his surroundings. He has always a 
number of "irons in the fire"; his finger is in 
every pie. He is the executive man : as organiser 
or thinker he fails. He is precipitate in action. 
At worst he is a muddler. Jung calls this type 
the "extravert." 

Naturally enough, we shall seldom find pure 
types. The ordinary man does not run to these 
extremes, but he lies between the ideal normal 
and one of them. We are able to say that he 
tends toward "introversion" or "extraversion." 

We shall discover evidence of this in the day- 
dream also. The dreamer describes himself as 
taking part in the activities that go on before his 
eyes, or as regarding them in the r61e of a spec- 
tator. The latter may be taken as an indication 
of a balance of introversion: and the former, 
in general, as an indication of tendencies towards 
extraversion. But excessive daydreaming is in 
any case indicative of introversion. 

Case VII. D., a man of twenty- three years 



THE DAYDREAM 49 

of age, a member of a University, found consider- 
able difficulty in concentrating on his reading. 
At such times he found himself vividly day- 
dreaming. 

The daydream was almost invariably the same. 
He saw two fleets, which were about to engage 
in action. It was his duty to make himself 
responsible for the disposition of the one, arranging 
for its gunfire to be such that not a single enemy 
should escape. He imagined the task completed, 
and the enemy destroyed. But he could never 
satisfy himself that his preparations were suffi- 
ciently complete to warrant him in ordering his 
ships to open fire. There seemed always to be 
something more to do. 

This daydream has been quoted in order to 
show the nature of the introversive type of reverie. 
It is singularly apropos, since it continues the 
metaphor that has already been employed, in 
regarding introversion and extroversion as modes 
of attack upon life, in the attempt to secure 
mastery for the self over the environment. 

Many of the child's early fantasies are con- 
cerned with growing up. Naturally so, since the 
child is dominated by the grown-up people about 
him, and he consequently comes to regard growing 
up as a necessary preliminary to domination on 
his own account. He takes pleasure in announc- 
ing what he will do when he grows up, and in 



50 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

thinking out what he will be. The choice is not 
so haphazard as it may seem at first sight. The 
child is less attracted to the people he sees, than 
to the people he sees displaying themselves in 
dominating other people, animals, or big things. 
The policeman is important, since people obey 
him. The tram conductor is a person who 
strikes the imagination, since he tells the driver 
when to stop and when to go on, and makes people 
give him money: further, he has the sole right 
of using the marvellous ticket-punch. The driver 
of a railway engine is also a wonderful person, 
since he controls a whole train, with a number 
of people in it. 

We find therefore that the child's earliest 
fantasies about his future are those in which he 
regards himself as policeman, tram conductor, or 
as driver of horses, trams, motors or trains. 

Case VIII. A child of three years, accompany- 
ing his mother on a shopping expedition pointed 
out a man who was cranking up a motor. 

"Look, mamma," said he, "that's me winding 
up that motor." 

It is rather later that the ordinary child feels 
an ambition to become a teacher. To discover 
the motive underlying this wish, it is useless to 
inquire as to the nature of the services that the 
teacher renders to the community, and to assert 



THE DAYDREAM 51 

that the child is stirred by an altruistic desire 
to serve mankind in a particularly valuable way. 
It is more fruitful to watch children playing at 
school in the streets. It then becomes clear that 
the child who takes the part of " teacher' ' has 
no ideas beyond those of controlling and punish- 
ing other children. The desire to become a 
teacher, like the "playing at schools/ ' is no more 
than an expression of the wish to dominate 
others. 

The themes of domination and display are to 
be traced in all the early choices of a profession 
by children and adolescents. Nowadays, one 
finds that a considerable proportion of the children 
in the upper standards of elementary schools, 
and a great many in secondary schools also, wish 
to be film actors or actresses. Here they are at 
one with a great many adults. It is hardly 
necessary to add that the great majority of those 
who dream of themselves as successful actors and 
actresses are gaining compensation for the lack 
of opportunities for successful display in the eyes 
of the people about them: for obvious reasons. 

The typical relation of the wishes expressed 
in the daydream and the actual circumstances 
which surround the dreamer are well stated in 
the following daydream and comment supplied 
me by a b6y, working in Standard III of an 
elementary school, although of an age at which 
he should have been in Standard VI : — 



52 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Case IX. I often dream that I am reciting 
poetry in front of my chums at school, and that 
they are cheering me. 

This is different from real life. I have never 
been praised for recitation. 

In summing up the foregoing account of the 
typical daydream, it seems well to state that the 
examples cited are taken from a collection of 
some hundreds, and that they have been selected, 
not because they are different from those that 
have been omitted, but because they illustrate 
a little more clearly than others the principal 
characteristics. Any teacher may confirm this 
by collecting the daydreams of his pupils, or by 
noting his own. Even if, as so many adults 
are at first prepared to state, his daydream is 
concerned with his work, he will note that it 
is less with his work as he does it than with his 
work as he would wish to do it in order to shine 
in the eyes of some particular person or persons, 
or to experience elation. In brief, it is a Fantasy 
of Display. 

The daydream, then, is to be regarded as an 
ideal realisation of instinctive wishes that are 
thwarted in reality. The emotions which ac- 
company it are those which would accompany 
successful instinctive activity. Indulgence of the 
daydream is therefore an escape from " reality " 
for the sake of " pleasure." 



THE DAYDREAM 53 

Daydreams are invariably egoistic, concerned 
with successful display or domination, with a 
purely selfish mastery of others for the sake of 
the pleasure of the individual. They reveal an 
attitude towards the environment, a "protest" 
against reality, and a conception of the mode of 
attack upon life which will lead to success and 
mastery. 



CHAPTER III 

the daydream {continued) 

It will not be difficult, in view of what has been 
said in the preceding chapter as to the nature of 
the daydream, for the teacher to understand a 
great many of the difficulties he meets with in his 
work. Not so very long ago I was listening to a 
Head Master giving what appeared to me to be 
a particularly fascinating lesson in a very able 
manner. After the lesson had gone on for about 
ten minutes, some boys began to put their fingers 
in their mouths or upon their lips. It was fairly 
easy to see, by watching them, that their attention 
had begun to wander, that these boys were day- 
dreaming. By taking counts at the end of each 
five minutes, I was able to know that the numbers 
varied. Nor were they at all times the same boys 
who were not attending, for some would leave day- 
dreaming and attend to the matter in hand. But, 
generally speaking, the numbers increased as time 
went on. There were moments when a consider- 
able proportion of the class was daydreaming. 
In a lesson where the matter follows a logical 

54 



THE DAYDREAM 55 

sequence from beginning to end, inattention for a 
few moments necessitates that the whole must be 
repeated. 

We have, as a rule, been content to say in the 
past that the boy does not attend to the lesson 
because it does not interest him. This does not 
help very much unless the analysis goes a great 
deal farther. It has seldom gone farther. The 
result has been that attempts have been made to 
alter the subject matter of lessons, and mode of 
presentation, and apparatus in general, in order 
that lessons may be invested with a certain at- 
tractiveness which it was believed that they 
lacked. The attempts have not always been wise. 
Teachers have at times discovered that illustra- 
tions interested children a great deal, and have 
been tempted to use these until their purpose, as 
adjuvants of certain teaching, was lost sight of, so 
that what should have been a lesson on a certain 
subject became really a lesson on certain illustra- 
tions. In other words, the man who has had to 
teach something that was not interesting, has 
taught something else that was interesting. But 
if the former task were worth doing, it should not 
have been replaced in this way by a substitute. 
The problem has not been faced and disposed of, 
but merely evaded. 

It is hardly possible to deal with this question 
without dealing with the problem of interest. 
Some part of this has already arisen in connection 



56 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

with the study of the daydream, where we dis- 
covered that we are prone to withdraw our atten- 
tion from the matter in hand and transfer it to 
the daydream, which interests us more. A great 
portion of our waking life is devoted to activities 
that are either daydreaming or that border closely 
upon it, and we are justified in saying that the 
subject of our daydreams is one that is of great 
interest for us. The subject in question, how- 
ever, is ourselves and our instinctive wishes. 

In the daydreams of children that we have 
considered, these wishes are concerned with 
domination and display. 

The ordinary lesson gives little opportunity of 
domination or display to any one save the teacher. 
The modern teacher is very different from his 
predecessor in many ways, and is less inclined to 
over- value " discipline.' ' Not many years ago the 
boy in school was condemned to sit rigidly still 
upon furniture designed to keep him in a position 
that was considered proper for educational pur- 
poses, whilst he listened attentively to every word 
that the master said. At times he was required to 
raise the right hand in a prescribed fashion in 
order to answer questions. The master, on the 
other hand, was able to gratify to the full any 
tendencies he may have had in the direction of 
domination and display. The boy had no such 
opportunities: his business was to submit, and if 
he did not do this to the full, he was liable to be 



THE DAYDREAM 57 

punished in ways that aimed at degrading him or 
making him appear ridiculous and contemptible 
to his fellows. The whole system was designed to 
oppose and thwart every instinctive motive of a 
normal boy. 

The modern teacher, with another attitude 
towards "discipline," appeals much more success- 
fully to the boy's real nature, and the results are 
seen in the different attitude towards school that 
is noticeable in the majority of the children 
attending our elementary and secondary schools. 
The teacher is, on the whole, less inclined to 
insist that he is a "master," and more anxious to 
rest his authority on a recognition of his worth by 
his pupils than on force and repression. 

No view of the child can be complete that does 
not look forward to the man he is to become. The 
task entrusted to the teacher is that of guiding the 
children in his care towards a normal manhood. It 
is hardly his place to endeavour to make scholars, 
or even cranks, of his pupils. The unusually 
clever boy may bring the teacher immediate 
credit, but the final justification of the teacher in 
our society is the progress made by the mass, a 
slow and steady progress, towards a higher average 
of moral and intellectual achievement. 

It may be well, therefore, to turn aside from 
the immediate problem of the child's interests, 
and devote some consideration to the question of 
the interests of the adult. We can study these 



58 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

best and most fairly when we study men in 
crowds. 

Men are united in crowds on the basis of a 
common interest. We may have the crowd 
assembled in one place, or we may have the crowd 
dispersed in place and time. The crowd assembled 
to watch a cup- tie football match is an instance 
of the one; the admirers of Dickens of the 
other. 

The basis of a common interest is all-important. 
The stream of people passing over Brooklyn Bridge 
or in front of the Mansion House is not a crowd 
in any psychological sense. The common interest 
implies a common instinctive motive, receiving 
approximately the same gratification, accompanied 
by the same emotion. The units, the individuals 
of a crowd are therefore united by a community of 
motive, of experience, and of emotion. 

What exactly is the nature of the emotion and 
the motive? This varies, naturally enough, with 
the occasion for the assembly. But analysis goes 
to suggest that the possible variations are few in 
number. 

Let us consider first the football crowd already 
referred to. The match occurs between the 
employees of two limited liability companies, who 
have only the slightest associations with the towns 
whom they " represent." Thousands of people 
assemble to watch the match, few of whom have 
anything to gain or lose by the result, be it what 



THE DAYDREAM 59 

it may : many of these do not live in or near the 
towns that are nominally pitted against each other. 

It is impossible to watch such a match without 
realising that the great number of the spectators 
are taking a much more than mere spectacular 
interest in the play. They follow the activities 
of the players with an interest that is intense and 
that is irrational if judged by the real importance 
of the event. They show the interest that we 
should expect if the players' fortunes were their 
own. Some of the spectators are unable to limit 
the expression of their interest to facial changes: 
they leap about, wave their arms, and shout. 
They imitate the movements of the man on the 
field in whom they are especially interested, going 
so far as to charge violently people at the side of 
them when charging takes place on the field. 
Such conduct warrants us in believing that the 
spectators, in greater or lesser degree, identify 
themselves with the players. Their body remains 
on the stand, but their personality — whatever that 
may be — is for the moment on the field, playing 
the game, displaying itself before an applauding 
crowd. 

Most people have enjoyed the experience of 
44 living through' ' a book which they have read. 
We appear, at the end of such an experience, to 
return to reality in much the same manner in 
which we return to real life at the conclusion of a 
daydream. We cannot live through every book 



60 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

we read, nor can the spectator live through every 
spectacle that he sees. The man who enters fully 
into a football match might conceivably be bored 
by grand opera. The woman who can project 
herself into a novel by Stephen McKenna would 
probabfy find a tale by one of the people who write 
popular serials for Sunday newspapers so dull that 
it could stir in her no feeling whatsoever. 

In considering spectacles and novels, it would 
at first seem that we have wandered far from the 
daydream. But the three differ only in that the 
first presents us with action, the second with 
verbal images, and the third with mental images. 
In the first and second, also, the images are pre- 
sented to us in a sequence which is independent 
of ourselves, whereas in the daydream images 
and order of presentation are determined within 
us. In the daydream, we create . . . that is, 
we select and rearrange, from the store of images 
accumulated somewhere in our minds, the series 
which expresses the subject of the daydream; so 
that every daydream is more interesting to us than 
the reality which is contemporaneous with it; Every 
spectacle and every novel is not more interesting 
than the reality of the moment. From these 
dramas of action and of verbally presented images, 
it would seem, we select those that offer us some- 
thing which interests us more than the material 
needs of the moment. 

The spectacle and the tale may be regarded, to 



THE DAYDREAM 61 

this extent only for the present, as ready-made 
daydreams. From the host of ready-made gar- 
ments which tailors stock, we shall find a few only 
that will meet our requirements in all respects, 
and satisfy us as completely as clothing made 
especially to our order from materials which we 
have personally selected. Such an analogy enables 
us to understand why it is that we are able to live 
in all our daydreams, but in a few only of the 
episodes that we see or of which we read. 

The wish to become a professional footballer or 
boxer is a frequent one with adolescent boys. 
Very common, too, is the daydream of victory on 
the football field or in the ring. A typical day- 
dream is the following, narrated by a boy of 
fifteen, attending a municipal secondary school in 
an industrial town : — 

Case X. I dream that I am about to enter the 
boxing-ring to fight with a professional opponent. 
A great crowd has assembled to witness the match, 
and there are loud cheers on my appearance. 

The fight begins. After two minutes I give 
my opponent the " knock-out/ ' and he is counted 
out. I am carried from the ring on the shoulders 
of my supporters, amid deafening applause. 

(The narrator goes on to say that nothing of 
this kind has happened in reality.) 

Many similar daydreams, relating to similar 
exploits of a spectacular nature, might be added: 



62 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to little purpose, since the majority are practically 
identical. But it becomes clear that the victor in 
the boxing-ring, or the successful centre-forward 
or goalkeeper, is doing in fact what so many of 
the lookers-on are doing or have done in fantasy. 
He is giving a semblance of reality to their day- 
dreams. In him, vicariously, they are living their 
wishes. 

Such a conception assists materially in the 
understanding of the popularity of spectacular 
performances, of " stunts' ' in general. These are 
to be regarded as displays of an exaggerated kind; 
beholding which, the spectator is enabled to fulfil, 
by means of projection of himself into the pro- 
tagonist, his own instinctive wishes for display and 
self-assertion. That such projection is possible is 
no new discovery, though it has remained for 
modern psychology to relate it to other forms of 
mental activity. Thus Shelley is quoted by 
Bradley as saying: "The Athenian tragedies 
represent the highest idealisms of passion and 
of power (not merely of virtue); and in them 
we behold ourselves, under a thin disguise of 
circumstances, stripped of all but that ideal per- 
fection and energy which every one feels to be the 
eternal type of all that he loves, admires and 
would become. "* 

That the display demanded is of so exaggerated 

1 Oxford Lectures on Poetry, by A. C. Bradley (Macmillan and 
Co., London, 2nd ed., 19 19), p. 164. 



THE DAYDREAM 63 

a character to-day as in the time of the Roman 
decadence, is to be explained, at least in part, as 
of the nature of the compensation discussed in the 
previous chapter. The majority of the people 
who assemble at football matches or in cinemato- 
graph theatres are denied in their lives, by nature 
of their circumstances and occupations, any sort of 
fulfilment of the wishes associated with the instinct 
of self-assertion. Hence we should anticipate 
that their daydreams would be more wildly 
fantastic in character than those of people more 
favourably circumstanced in this respect. If the 
daydreams of a number of schoolboys are ex- 
amined, it is found that the more exaggerated day- 
dreams occur in the greatest proportion amongst 
those who are not very successful in work or in 
games. The backward boy who is cheered in his 
daydreams is a boy whose work never merits a 
word of praise. 

It is often objected, by the critics of the cinema- 
tograph theatre, that the plays which are pre- 
sented are not at all true to real life. That may 
be. But they are very true to the average day- 
dream, and the view of life which it presents. 

It is not without significance that the subject 
of the book which is regarded as the first English 
novel — Richardson's Pamela — is the story of a 
servant-girl who married her master, and who thus 
became mistress in the house where she was 
formerly servant. The theme has been a popular 



64 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

one ever since, and has, with slight changes of 
scene and dress, served as the plot for novels and 
plays without number. 

There has been, for many years, discussion 
amongst dramatic critics as to the merits of 
"serious" plays. Excellent as these may be, they 
have but a limited appeal. It is difficult to 
generalise, but in the main these plays criticise 
contemporary life, and suggest a reconstruction 
along thoughtful and serious lines, with the 
object of stimulating thought in the spectator, 
and leading him to work towards the attainment 
of some such alteration in the life of his time. 
The end in view is a social one, and the playwright 
is animated by some such consideration as an 
abstract principle — justice, love or service. 

But the ends of the daydream, as we have 
already seen, are egoistic in their nature. The 
demand for the play that shall be popular has 
produced a play that is in conformity with the 
structure of the daydream. The appearance of 
Mayfair and the aristocracy in melodramas and 
serial stories is not due to any innate affection 
on the part of the audience or reader for Mayfair 
or the aristocracy : but because these stand for a 
particular kind of eminence, a social domination 
that is desired. The Mayfair and the aristocracy 
of the melodrama and the serial story are as much 
unlike their prototypes as they could possibly be. 
But they stand for grandeur and domination, as 



THE DAYDREAM 65 

these are conceived in daydreams. It is hardly so 
true to say that people of narrow experience get 
their ideas of the aristocrat from melodrama and 
novelettes, as to say that they obtain them from 
their daydreams, as do the writers. The large 
house, the crowds of attendants, the splendid 
robes, the rich food, the abundance of money, 
the careless largesse . . . these are all daydream 
features. 

It is possible to study a number of things 
which make a wide appeal to large masses of 
men, an appeal so great that these are induced 
to part with money and to forego material 
advantages in attending to the appeal, and to 
say that these interest people because they repeat 
the motives of the daydream. A study of popular 
illustrated papers, of advertisements, of music- 
hall turns, of songs, of plays, of films, of novels 
and stories, of poems, and of pictures, seems 
inevitably to lead to this conclusion. In many of 
these the connection is obvious; in others, the 
relation of the appeal to the daydream is dis- 
guised, and the penetration of the disguise calls 
for considerations that will be discussed later. 

In this brief study of popular appeal we have, 
however, discovered something of importance in 
connection with interest. Our deepest interests 
are bound up with our instinctive wishes. 

It is valuable in this connection to consider 

the stories which appeal to the average child 
5 



66 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

above all others — fairy tales. The interest is 
surprising to many adults, since the subject of the 
fairy story is so far removed from real life, and, 
moreover, fairy stories are so very much alike. 

The "Cinderella" and the "Ugly Duckling" 
type of story are among the most popular. The 
theme that is common to both stories is that of a 
young creature who is misunderstood and perse- 
cuted by other members of the family, but who is 
in the end recognised as more beautiful and more 
worthy of praise than the former persecutors. 

It is worth noting how closely this theme follows 
the situation in which a young child finds himself. 
There arise many occasions on which he is over- 
looked, or deprived of some privilege that he 
desires, because of his tender age. He cannot 
accompany older brothers and sisters on long 
excursions, because he is not strong enough to 
walk so far. He is not allowed to remain up late, 
because he is not old enough. Children protest 
that they are quite strong enough for the walk 
and beg to be allowed to postpone their bedtime. 
When pleas are unavailing, they sometimes make 
exaggerated statements about the things that they 
will do when they are older or bigger. They 
regard the going to bed as a punishment, the 
remaining at home whilst their brothers go for 
excursions as a deprivation, and see in these things 
nothing more than the capricious tyranny of a 
powerful adult. The will of older persons is set 



THE DAYDREAM 67 

against theirs, caprice against caprice, so far as 
they are able to understand, and it is easy to see 
that the child looks forward to the time when he 
shall grow up and set things right, when he shall 
decide the bedtime of other people, and when 
he shall do things that his brothers and sisters 
cannot do. "Hop o' my Thumb' ' and "Jack the 
Giant-Killer' f are stories that are in accord with 
his immediate wishes. But the denouements of 
"The Ugly Duckling" and "Cinderella" are 
consonant with the outlook upon himself, and 
with the hopes that he has of the future. 

The changed attitude towards the parents that 
is a result of the lessening of the child's depend- 
ence upon them, and attempt on their part to 
discipline him, has already been referred to in 
the previous chapter. The childish statement, 
"You are not my mother," was spoken of; and 
a daydream was given in which a boy belittled his 
mother in a number of ways. Further, in actual 
life he attempted to run away from her. It will 
be remembered that in stories of the Cinderella 
type insistence is laid upon the fact that the mother 
is dead, and that the heroine is cared for by a 
stepmother. There are no brothers or sisters; 
merely stepsisters. In some forms of the story 
there is a father living, but he is a vague person, 
sometimes loving the heroine, but unable to assist 
her in any way. He is little better than a creature 
of the stepmother. 



68 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

The unkindness of the other members of the 
family towards the heroine is always brought out 
in a few definite ways : — 

(i) She is not permitted to share in their 
privileges, but remains at home whilst the others 
go out to enjoy themselves. 

(2) She is regarded by the other members of 
the family as an inferior. 

(3) She is dominated by the stepmother and 
stepsisters, and is allotted a number of disagreeable 
tasks. 

(4) When important visitors call, she has to 
remain out of sight. 

The heroine's fortunes are determined by either 
her dead mother, who secretly returns to her in 
some form, or by the fairy godmother, who 
presided over her birth. It is somebody, that is 
to say, who knew and loved her before the time 
of persecution set in, somebody more powerful 
than herself, but who loves her completely and is 
devoted to her service. The time prior to the 
persecution is the time that is remembered, when 
she was admired and applauded by her little 
world, when she was helpless, but was thought 
much of because of what she was, and not because 
of what she did. It is the gifts of these people 
that are to count in determining the fortunes of 
Cinderella, who is to become a princess because 



THE DAYDREAM 69 

of the gifts bestowed upon her at her birth, gifts 
which are hidden from the envious people about 
her, and which cannot ordinarily be seen in the 
light of day. The prince is the lover who will 
admire her as her mother once admired her, who 
will give her the first place in his affections, the 
place that she once held with her parents and in 
her household. 

The egoistic attitude which this story repre- 
sents, and which we find repeated in a number of 
daydreams, is a great deal more common than 
might be supposed. The varying forms which it 
may assume may be tabulated thus : — 

(1) The belief that one is entitled to love and 
admiration as a right, independently of one's 
actions. 

(2) The belief in a splendid self that is not 
visible to the world about one. This is a recol- 
lection of the early adoration which one enjoyed 
as an infant. 

(3) The belief that there exists somebody who 
will see in one the things that are hidden from 
those who look on one as inferior or ordinary, 
and will discover the "real self." 

(4) The belief that one is really "first" in 
one's surroundings, and is not recognised because 
of a conspiracy. 

If we discover these fantasies in an adult, we 



70 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

are entitled to regard them as morbid. In a child, 
we may consider them as indicating a phase in 
his mental evolution that will be superseded by 
later phases. They certainly do persist in a great 
many adults, and are to be regarded as indicative 
of a fixation upon an infantile stage of develop- 
ment. 

The fantasies that we have discovered in such a 
story as Cinderella are not by any means confined 
to fairy stories, but are also to be discovered in 
myths that have been accepted as beliefs by men 
of every race. The typical structure of some of 
the most common may be summed up as : — 

(i) The hero is born of people of exalted rank 
— gods, heroes, emperors or kings. Sometimes 
one parent is a god, and the mother a specially 
selected person, e. g., Remus and Romulus were 
born of Mars and a vestal virgin. Heroes were 
born as a result of the union of a god with a 
nymph or a mortal. 

(2) The hero is abandoned or persecuted by his 
real parents, or by his father. 

(3) The hero is adopted by people of low origin, 
whom he regards as his real parents. 

(4) The hero distinguishes himself above his 
playfellows by stature, beauty or dignified bear- 
ing; or by deeds of bravery, by his conversation 
or by miracles. 

(5) The hero meets his real father, and so 



THE DAYDREAM 71 

impresses himself upon him that the latter acknow- 
ledges him, and places him in his rightful position. 
Alternatively, the hero meets and slays his father, 
unwittingly. 

(6) The hero rewards those who treated him 
well when he was unknown, and revenges himself 
upon those who treated him badly. Sometimes 
there is a great deal of forgiveness of the latter, 
provided they acknowledge his present rank. 

The question of the substantial truth of myths 
and legends is a matter for the historian, and does 
not concern us here. We are interested merely in 
the investigation of their appeal to men and 
women; and this is to be understood, as we 
have seen, from the resemblance of the hero to 
ourselves, as we picture ourselves to ourselves 
in fantasies. The story of the hero interests us 
deeply because we are able to project ourselves into 
the hero, and in him fulfil our deepest unfulfilled 
wishes. It is possible to find large numbers of 
men and women in the world who are deeply 
moved by the hero myths — much more deeply 
than we can understand, if we take into considera- 
tion merely rational grounds. It is rare to find 
children who are not stirred by the stories of the 
heroes. Of late years publishers have found it 
profitable to put on the market editions of the 
myths of all nations, as well as of the cycles of 
legends that have gathered about the names of 



72 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Ulysses, Arthur, Charlemagne and Roland 
amongst others; and these frankly for the use of 
children and their teachers. 

It must not be imagined that the people to 
whom the ancient myths do not appeal are free 
from daydreams of the type which the myths 
represent. It is necessary only to read a number 
of stories from current fiction magazines in order 
to see that these, in the main, repeat the same 
myth in a degraded form: degraded because it 
is dressed in a garb that more closely resembles 
common life. The same thing is revealed by the 
study and comparison of a number of cinemato- 
graph dramas, of serial stories, and of popular 
novels. One very popular novelist, whose sales 
ran into hundreds of thousands, was able to 
manufacture a great number of novels, the 
majority of which were concerned with a theme 
which may be thus summarised: — 

(i) A girl, of very commonplace type, meets 
with losses which make it imperative that she 
should mix with people who are inferior to her 
in every way. 

(2) She is ill-treated by the people amongst 
whom she has to live. Sometimes one girl only 
is able to glimpse the real quality of the heroine. 

(3) Her employer, or some immediate superior, 
uses his position to dominate the girl in ways 
that are unpleasant. His attitude increases the 



THE DAYDREAM 73 

persecution meted out to her by the other 
workpeople. 

(4) A chance encounter brings her into contact 
with a man, apparently as unfortunate as herself. 
He is able to see in her "the real self," which the 
others are unable to see, or which they jealously 
resent. He loves her "for herself alone." In 
some way he outwits the persecutor and saves the 
girl from him. 

(5) She marries, and discovers that the man she 
has married is really rich, is usually titled, and 
that he has assumed poverty in order to be loved 
"for himself alone." 

The commonplaceness of the heroine has been 
insisted upon in (1) as being important. If the 
heroine is of a marked type, then it is difficult for 
the average reader to project herself into her, and 
through her to realise her own wishes. If the 
heroine seems at all to be markedly different from 
the common run of people, it will be found that 
this difference is the result of emphasis on some 
particular characteristic, which merely goes to 
make her a little less like the reader, but a little 
more like the reader's daydreamed picture of 
herself. A book with a clever heroine is more 
likely to achieve popularity than a book with a 
Tibetan heroine. 

The author in question seldom varied his theme. 
His readers and reviewers used to say that his 



74 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

books were all alike. But people went on reading 
one after the other, as rapidly as they were 
published. 

Such considerations make it clear why a " happy 
ending' ' is insisted upon by the editors of English 
fiction magazines. Authors believe very often 
that the editors are wrong. This is unlikely, since 
the editor risks his position and a good deal of 
money upon the soundness or unsoundness of his 
judgment of the taste of the public for which he 
caters. The author is able to submit his unpub- 
lished stories to a small circle of his friends only. 
Their verdict must necessarily be a less safe guide 
to the public taste than the wide experience of 
the editor of a popular magazine. 

The present chapter has attempted to deal with 
a matter of the utmost importance to those who 
are concerned with the understanding of the 
motives of human beings, of whatever age, rank 
or standing. It is a matter so wide in its scope 
that a book, several times the size of the present 
one, might be devoted to the mere presentation 
and examination of the material required for 
complete evidence. Naturally, therefore, the dis- 
cussion is to be regarded as incomplete, though 
not necessarily superficial or misleading. 

What is of importance in the present treatment 
is the insistence that, if we wish to learn something 
of human motives, we must look for evidence in 
human beings themselves, and try to understand 



THE DAYDREAM 75 

the things they do and that they wish to do. 
We must study every department of human 
expression, and that sympathetically, or at least 
with detachment. Nothing is learned by deplor- 
ing that people spend their Saturdays at football 
matches, or their evenings in cinematograph 
theatres, and that they spend money without 
securing material advantages as a result. Nor is it 
of value to regard some of the interests of men as 
depraved, and to seek the reason of their attrac- 
tion in human wickedness; perhaps it were better 
to say, refuse to seek the reason, and to make an 
assumption of human wickedness. If we have a 
bias which makes us inclined to regard much that 
is popular in this way, it is more than ever neces- 
sary to examine scientifically the depravity and 
wickedness, so that we may understand them. 

We shall find, here and there, men who seem to 
have estimated themselves rightly, and who are 
able to effect progressive adjustments between 
themselves and the world about them, men who 
are absorbed in the work they are doing and who 
find in it such fulness of expression, such com- 
pleteness of life, that they need no refuge from 
reality. They have not to turn aside to myths 
and daydreams, of their own or other men's 
creating. But these men are rare. 

We reach the conclusion that human motives 
are to be sought in the instinctive tendencies, and 
that for an explanation of "popular" or " crowd" 



76 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

motives we must look to those instincts which are 
denied full expression in ordinary life. The un- 
fulfilled instinct leads us to look on the world in 
much the way that the starving man looks through 
the plate-glass windows of a baker's shop. The 
craving for self-assertion makes us look at the 
general enjoying a triumphal progress, the athlete 
whom thousands of people are watching with 
admiration, the hero of the play, with interest and 
pleasure, because in them and through them we 
enjoy for a brief moment the fulfilment of our 
unfulfilled wishes. Envy and resentment may 
come at another time. But it is more important 
for us that our cravings should be satisfied, even if 
vicariously only, than that we should hate. 

Is there no way of putting an end to the day- 
dream? The question seems of importance, for 
if this could be achieved, the teacher would im- 
mediately benefit, inasmuch as his most serious 
rival for the pupil's attention would disappear. 

But the eradication of the instinctive wishes 
would mean the eradication of the whole of the 
pupil's motives; not motives for daydreaming 
only, but for doing anything whatsoever. 

Since, however, the daydreaming activity is 
concerned with the wishes that are unfulfilled, it 
would seem as if the solution lay in fulfilling them 
all. This is impossible. We have already seen 
the socially valueless and egoistic nature of these 
wishes. Their fulfilment would make human 



THE DAYDREAM 77 

society of any sort impossible. There is no savage 
community where the unrestricted play of all 
instinctive wishes is permitted. Contrary to the 
general opinion on the subject, the life of the 
savage is hedged about with a great number of 
restraints, so that it is doubtful if the number 
of his unfulfilled wishes is less than that of the 
civilised man of European civilisation. Freedom, 
in this particular sense of the word, is unknown 
where any organisation exists, and seems to be 
impossible. It is certainly incompatible with any 
high human development. 

There is a third course, and one which is 
possible. This is, to direct the instinctive ten- 
dencies to fulfilments that are of social value. 
So far as material results are concerned, daydream- 
ing is an apparently futile process. It leads, 
however, to the formulation and expression of the 
wishes that may, if opportunity arises, motivate 
actions of great value to society. If the day- 
dream of display expresses the individual's desire 
for distinction over his fellows, so also does the 
public activity of our greatest men. These things 
are obviously not equal, but they have a common 
source. 

In the psychanalytic view, the chief aim of 
education is to discover the nature of the deep 
instinctive motives of children, and to train them 
from egoistic levels of expression to altruistic 
levels. So long as the wishes seek an egoistic 



78 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

outlet, society must, in self-defence, forbid them 
expression in action, so that no expression is 
possible for them except futile daydreaming or the 
symptoms of nervous disease. But if altruistic 
outlets are desired, so that society benefits by the 
expression in action of the motives, a real fulfil- 
ment becomes possible and permissible. Action 
implies an adjustment between the individual 
and his environment that is continuous and pro- 
gressive. Action results in an accession of health 
and happiness, whereas the subjective process of 
daydreaming has upon the organism something of 
the effect of a drug, giving merely momentary 
pleasure. The transition from egoistic and sub- 
jective expression of instinctive motives to altru- 
istic and objective expression has been termed 
sublimation, and will be more fully considered in 
later chapters. 



CHAPTER IV 

PLAY 

Play is a term which is somewhat loosely used, 
but which may be understood as denoting activi- 
ties which are carried on for the sake of the 
pleasure they give, and not for any objective end. 
Their end, that is to say, is subjective; and 
this is a feature common to playing and day- 
dreaming. 

There is a type of "play" with which every- 
body who has taught young children is familiar. 
It consists in apparently aimless movements con- 
nected with the fingers, the face, a garment or a 
button, a pen or ruler, or with the lid of a desk. 
It repeats the movements of infancy — the explor- 
ing of the body, the tugging at a fastening, the 
hammering of a spoon upon a table, or the 
examination of an unfamiliar article held in the 
hand. It is accompanied by the wandering of 
attention, by the lapse into the daydream. It 
would seem as if the child were endeavouring to 
escape from a lesson which was boring him by 
means of a return to earlier activities, either 

79 



80 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

because these were pleasurable in themselves, or 
because they led to results that were pleasurable, 
such as the attraction of the attention of other 
people to himself. 

Such playing and daydreaming must be accepted 
as evidence of the fact that the lesson does not 
appeal to the whole of the child, and that they 
are capable of appealing more strongly, and of 
stealing interest from the lesson. They indicate 
the real direction of the child's interest, and sug- 
gest that the attention paid to a great part of 
the lesson is a coerced attention. The bearing of 
this point on problems connected with memory 
is of great importance. 

The child will not, of course, if left to play as 
he will, remain in a school desk, fidgeting with 
pen or desk-lid. According to his age, the free 
child will play with toys of a suitable kind,, alone 
or in company with other boys. 

The evolution of play in the case of an individual 
child is the story of the progress from solitary 
play to the team game. 

The question of play has been discussed from 
a variety of standpoints by different writers. Its 
nature and development have been studied in 
connection with the theory that the individual 
repeats in an abbreviated form the history of his 
race. Its value has been studied by those who 
hold that play fulfils a purposive function. 
Again, the movements of play have been studied 



PLAY 81 

by those who wish to enlist play as a means of 
securing the child's physical welfare. 

We are not concerned here with any of these 
aspects of play. It is rather our business to relate 
play to the instinctive tendencies, and to discover 
its function as a means of gratifying the instincts. 
One of the earliest forms of play, as we are using 
the term, is to be seen when the child holds a 
spoon or a small stick in his hand, and hammers 
with it on the table. The noise he makes is very 
great, as is his enjoyment. If he is interfered 
with, and the stick is taken away, he becomes 
angry, or begins to cry. These are the results 
when an instinctive activity is baffled. The 
enjoyment is indicative of an instinctive activity 
in progress. The child is feeling the emotion of 
elation, and the activity in question is connected 
with successful self-assertion. 

We find the same instinct in connection with 
all play that is solitary, in which a toy is used. All 
the favourite toys of a child — whips, balls, stones, 
dolls, building bricks, ninepins, and so forth — 
are means of successful self-assertion. All are 
concerned with opportunities of mastery; either 
mastery of themselves, or of other things by 
means of themselves. 

The doll is a toy that offers no resistance, so 
that mastery of it is fairly easy. It is the ball that 
seems to present the maximum of possibilities, 
since mastery of it can be made more and more 

6 



82 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

difficult at will, and yet be maintained within the 
player's grasp. This may not suggest that the 
child takes a very sporting attitude towards his 
play, and indeed the young child does not — he 
is far too eager to win. He is able to do many 
feats with his ball, that make his mastery of it a 
very real thing to him, but that are yet not so 
difficult that the mastery passes out of his grasp. 
The child sets himself tasks that he believes 
beforehand that he is capable of performing. 

The child is selfish about his play. He monopo- 
lises his toys as a rule. He is impatient and eager 
to play. If another child attempts to show him 
some new way of using a toy, the owner inter- 
rupts him continually, "Let me do it." When 
he has successfully mastered a difficult feat, he 
calls on adults to witness its repetition. Such play 
is to be regarded as mere egoistic self-assertion. 

There is another instinct whose working is to 
be seen in the child's attitude towards his toys. 
This is the instinct of ownership, or possession. 
It appears to arise at a stage when the child does 
not at all clearly realise the distinction between 
himself and the world outside him. Any posses- 
sion, anything that is his, seems to be a part of 
him, or to be an extension of his personality. Any 
possession makes him greater and more important. 
The child's respect for mere size makes him regard 
any extension of his own importance as some- 
thing that is very desirable. 



PLAY 83 

This attitude towards property is one that is 
well worth consideration. It is not sufficiently 
realised that the mind of a child is not merely a 
little human mind. It is so different that it may 
be regarded as a mind apparently different in kind 
from the mind of a man. 

We meet here with an attitude towards prop- 
erty that recalls the attitude of savage or primi- 
tive men. Certain magical practices rest upon 
the belief that the property of a man is a part 
of himself, and that the magician, by treating 
some part of a man's property in a certain manner, 
is able to effect injury to the owner. This may 
be the reason, though others have been assigned, 
why a dead man's possessions, including even his 
livestock, his wives and his slaves, are buried with 
him. It might be argued that this attitude 
towards property persists in many adults, civilised 
and cultured people, who would deny it if ques- 
tioned. Their conduct, however, implies an atti- 
tude towards possessions which cannot altogether 
be accounted for by its usefulness or its value to 
them. The collector might be referred to as an 
instance. 

Coventry Patmore has written a poem in which 
he tells how his little son, having been sent to 
bed as a punishment, collected together a number 
of precious odds and ends and placed them on 
a table at the bedside. They were such things 
as coloured stones and glass — mere trifles, and 



84 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

worthless to an adults — but they were possessions, 
and as such they were able to comfort and con- 
sole a child suffering from the arbitrary tyranny 
of a father. 

The child loves to accumulate playthings, and 
finds pleasure in spreading out all his treasures 
on the playroom floor. He loves, too, to have 
cupboards and boxes of his own, in which he 
may keep his possessions. He feels, in presence 
of his toys, the pleasure of an ancient king in 
his treasuries, and experiences the glow of posi- 
tive self -feeling that came to Trimalchio when 
his steward read out at the banquet the details 
of his property. 

The desire of mastery and of display is shown 
well in the building games that children play. 
Building is generally practised as solitary play. 
The child endeavours to make his castles high, 
and then higher, calling on adults to admire the 
wonderful structure he has made. Should the at- 
tempt fail at all, he dashes the building to the 
ground in anger. Sometimes, on the other hand, 
he destroys his building without anger, since he 
is able to assert himself as well by means of 
destruction as by means of construction. Nero 
gratifies the same instinct in burning Rome as 
Augustus in building it. 

It would appear, therefore, that the early play 
of the child is directed towards the gratification 
of the instincts of self-assertion and of possession, 



PLAY 85 

in a manner that is undisguisedly egoistic. If 
play is to be of value as a means of fitting the 
child for the social role which will be expected 
from him when he shall become an adult, a trans- 
formation must occur: the egoistic must develop 
into an altruistic side. Play must, in other words 
become socialised. 

Socialisation begins as soon as play ceases to 
be solitary, as soon as it becomes shared. 

The sharing of games results in a policy of 
"give and take." Two boys take turns in dis- 
play at the expense of the other, one running 
away while the other pursues, one dominating 
whilst the other submits, and so on. But the 
end in view is still a small one, still egoistic and 
asocial, still the gratification of an individual 
wish. A higher end does not come into view 
until the individual joins himself to a team, and 
works for the ends of the whole, neglecting his 
own immediate ones. It is found, as a result, 
that the individual is able to gain more self- 
feeling as a result of such subordination of him- 
self. But the desire personally to shine is not 
now a conscious end, though it persists uncon- 
sciously. It has been replaced by the wish for 
the honour of the team. 

It is possible to see strange imitations of team 
play. One frequently sees a small group of boys 
in the streets or in a public park, who have 
joined themselves together to play cricket. If 



86 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the whole group is under the domination of a 
single boy, larger than the others, then rules are 
modified in accordance with this boy's wishes. 
If he is run out, he decides that a player is "out" 
only when he is bowled out. Should he be bowled 
out, he decides that a player must be bowled 
three times before he is really out, and so on. 
If he happens not to be a good runner, then hits 
are to count as runs. But immediately the bully 
is out, the rules are enforced with a great deal 
of strictness. At other times, rules are relaxed 
in the interest of the owner of the bat, the ball 
or the stumps. 

Such instances illustrate very well the difficulty 
that the individual feels when he endeavours to 
subordinate his own interests to those of a group. 
The adult who allies himself with a movement 
in order that he may shine, using it thus for his 
own ends, is not a social, but an asocial individual. 
Within the group display is always possible, but 
it is not the end, and is in any case subordinated 
to the ends of the group. 

The process of socialisation is made easier for 
the individual if he is so placed that he is sur- 
rounded by examples and traditions, like those 
of a great public school. The public-school boy 
has an advantage in this repect that is not shared 
by the children of the elementary and secondary 
schools. Nor is it likely, whatever the future 
development of these may be, that they will ever 



PLAY 87 

be able to offer to their pupils the full advantages 
of the public schools' games system. The public 
elementary and secondary schools have not at 
their command the money that is necessary for 
grounds and apparatus if games are to be de- 
veloped to the level of those of the older public 
schools. Again, they are day schools, and this 
will always involve their being situated in popu- 
lated districts, whilst it prevents the complete 
and continuous environment of tradition and 
example which is possible only in comparative 
isolation. 

By means of subordination to a group, and 
identification with its interests, the individual is 
enabled to gratify yet another instinct, not less 
imperative than that of self-assertion : the instinct 
of subjection. The team game permits to him 
self-display within certain limits, which are 
bounded by the rules of the game and the ends 
of the team, to both of which he must without 
reserve submit himself. In such a game the boy 
discovers a fuller satisfaction than he has ever 
found in his solitary play, unless he is an unusual 
type of boy. Once he has discovered the delight 
of playing creditably for a side with which he 
has identified himself, the charm of solitary play 
has gone. In so far the individual has become 
social. 

It is this aspect of play, rather than the possi- 
bilities of physical development that it offers, 



88 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

that is of importance for education. It is the 
aspect which is often overlooked by advocates of 
games for elementary and secondary schools. 
Unless the supervision of play is carefully under- 
taken, supervised and organised play may easily 
become merely another school subject. Whatever 
advantages may accrue, the game will be deprived 
of its socialising value. 

The games of the public schools have their 
parallel in some features of savage education. 
The transition of boy to man is easier for the 
savage than it is for us, partly because the society 
into which the boy is to enter is so much more 
complex and highly organised. It is difficult to 
imagine any single rite or any brief training that 
could claim to initiate a boy into a full under- 
standing of modern life in all its aspects. But 
the initiation rite of the Australian savage is able 
to accomplish this very satisfactorily indeed. 

It is not as if, in abandoning the rite, we had 
evolved some satisfactory substitute for it. We 
have merely deleted it from our life. Initiation 
is retained at present only by small circles. Con- 
firmation may be regarded as the rite which 
initiates youth into the Church. Secret societies 
have their own initiation ceremonies. But the 
youth suffers because, in general, he is not so 
much initiated into manhood as flung into it. 
He has to learn, often furtively, the things that 
he is expected to know; and much important 



PLAY 89 

knowledge comes to him as a rather shameful 
secret than as something that is really valuable 
and necessary. Much that he learns is told him 
by people who are, to say the least, unsuitable. 
On the other hand, similar things are told to the 
savage boy with dignity and impressiveness. He 
learns them from the lips of the worthiest and 
most respected members of the tribe, on an 
occasion that is deliberately made dignified and 
impressive by every resource of art, music, and 
drama, as the tribe understands them. 

The importance of ritual has been emphasised 
so much of late by Dr. Hayward that it is hardly 
necessary to do more than refer to it here. Dr. 
Hayward has considered the problem somewhat 
differently from the way in which it has been 
presented here. But the principal use of cere- 
monial in his view is apparently the direction of 
the instinct of subjection or homage to worthy 
ends. 

This is the instinct which, it would appear, is 
appealed to by the games of the public school. 
Critics of the public school are not as a rule 
concerned to point out that the games fail of 
their effect. They admit that the games are a 
great success, but they criticise them on the 
ground of the frivolity and unimportance of the 
subject matter. It is not right, they argue in 
effect, that a boy should be initiated into life by 
means of unimportant feats with a bat and a ball, 



9 o PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

whilst the treasuries of national biography and 
of science remain untouched. They urge that a 
boy's instinct of homage should be appealed to 
by means of something loftier than the game. 

There seems very little doubt that school 
ceremonials could very well be designed that 
should afford opportunity for communal activity 
through which the instincts we have considered, 
self-assertion and subjection, might be gratified. 
Occasions of national importance, the anniver- 
saries of famous events, days associated with the 
lives of famous men, might be the occasion for 
celebrations that should impress upon children 
in a suitable way the facts that they are members 
one of another, in the circles of the family, the 
school, the country and the empire. In the many 
schools where games are impossible, such festivals 
might be organised to take their place; in .others, 
to supplement them. 

The game of the public school has a long 
history of success behind it. The communal fes- 
tival or celebration is a practically untried thing. 
It seems certainly to have possibilities, and its 
chances of success are made greater by the re- 
semblance it bears, in many essential respects, to 
the great educational experiment represented by 
the Scouts' and Guides' organisations. 

The Scout movement, by means of uniform 
and badges, permits to each individual member 
from the commencement a great deal of display. 



PLAY 91 

1 

The boy attracts the attention that all boys love. 
But the oath that he takes demands of him from 
the very first homage to certain persons; and 
this homage is made real to him, since it is 
associated with duties. The organisation into 
patrols, each under its distinctive flag, demands 
loyalty to a group. Further, the way in which 
the Scouts are used on occasions of civic and 
national display is a means whereby the circle of 
which the boy is a loyal member is extended, 
gradually and skilfully, from the patrol to the 
city and the nation. 

It seems very certain that the sublimation of 
an instinctive activity from one plane of mani- 
festation to another and higher one is more 
effectively accomplished when there is no con- 
sciousness of what is really being done. This is 
merely a re-statement of what good teachers 
have known for a long time: it is better, for 
example, that a boy should participate in, say, 
patriotic activities than that he should hear 
lectures on patriotism, and be told to live the 
precepts to which he has listened. Children 
become virtuous through having opportunities of 
virtuous conduct presented to them in such a 
way that they enjoy taking full advantage of 
them, rather than through a number of moral 
lessons. 

Sublimation implies a transfer of interest with- 
out a change of motive. Motives of ownership, 



92 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

self-display and subjection are probably the same 
the world over, but they may be made to serve 
selfish or altruistic interests; may be made 
socially injurious or valuable. 

The so-called "bad boy" is, as a rule, a boy 
who is trying to derive in anti-social ways the 
instinctive gratifications that are denied him by 
real life. Where this is the case, it is clear that 
the remedy lies in the provision of opportunities, 
and not in further repression. It is clear that 
the youth who is denied opportunities of self- 
realisation through the narrow milieu in which 
he lives will be further denied such opportunities 
in a reformatory. Repression is, however, too 
popular to disappear suddenly, since the people 
who approve it are not likely to be easily con- 
vinced. Repression affords too much gratifica- 
tion to the person who imposes it for this to 
occur, being a form of domination and self- 
display that, being carried out for ostensibly 
moral reasons, has behind it a great weight of 
public approval, however useless it has proved in 
practice. 



CHAPTER V 

DREAMS 

It is not surprising to discover, now that the 
daydream has been subjected to investigation, 
that the dreams of children are concerned with 
their wishes. The typical dream of a child is 
the dream that some wish, unfulfilled during the 
day, has been realised. It is found, on the basis 
of a number of dreams narrated by school children, 
that children who are plainly or scantily fed dream 
of feasts similar to those of which they read. 
Children who, for some reason or another, are 
unable to make excursions that have been planned, 
dream the same night that the wished-for excur- 
sion has taken place. In the same way children 
dream that they have become the possessors of 
toys for which they have longed. 

The interpretation of such dreams offers no 
difficulty. They are simple fulfilments of un- 
realised and current wishes. But there are many 
dreams which do not seem so easily interpretable. 
Dreams of falling, of being swallowed, of drowning 
— none of these seem to be capable of being 
regarded as fulfilments of wishes. 

93 



94 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Unless we are willing to fall back upon a fan- 
tastic theory, we must regard the dream as a 
product of the mind of the dreamer. He has 
"made it up": it is his dream. It is necessary 
to consider carefully the source of the materials 
and the process of composition. 

It has been noticed by many people in the 
past that the dream bears some relation to the 
events of the day. The dream itself is a dis- 
torted picture of things that have apparently 
never happened and that seem unlikely ever to 
happen, but the materials that compose this 
picture are recognisable as part of the experiences 
of life at or near the time of the dream. Thus, 
a girl at school dreams that she has had to write 
her name six times. The experience as such has 
not occurred. But she has had during the day 
of the dream to write her name a second time, 
because the first attempt was practically illegible. 
She is very fond of writing her name, and hardly 
a day passes, but what she writes it to see how 
it looks. Six has come up in another connec- 
tion, for she has received six pennies that day. 
Here, then, are the sources of the material. 

I had been asked whether a certain professor, 
whose name resembles very much that of one of 
the Oxford colleges, was teaching in the Univer- 
sity of Oxford. I was contemplating a visit to 
Oxford, in the course of which I intended calling 
at another college and consulting one of the 



DREAMS 95 

University readers. Within forty-eight hours I 
had dreamed a complicated dream, in which the 
two colleges appeared, and in which I walked 
from one to the other in the company of the 
reader. But a little time before the dream I 
had been writing a topical school sketch in which 
a restaurant played a part, so that in the dream 
one of the colleges changed into a cafe. 

Except for its nonsensical appearance, the 
dream resembles a literary composition, in that 
its materials are taken from experience. The 
resemblance is still further seen in the way in 
which these materials are treated. There are 
considerable omissions. There is a great deal of 
elaboration of detail. There is a welding together 
of parts into a coherence. The total result is as 
coherent as a real experience, in many cases, and 
yet totally different. 

We may speak, then, of condensation, of elabo- 
ration, of a harmonising of the parts into a whole 
(the "secondary elaboration' ' of Freud), as going 
on somewhere in the mind before the dream is 
complete. We may briefly describe the whole 
process as the "dream- work.' ' The dream- work 
is comparable to literary composition, which the 
majority of people find very difficult of achieve- 
ment. Yet this process goes on whilst we are 
totally unaware of it. Further, the result is quite 
unlike anything that we can recognise as our own. 
If it were possible for some one to present us 



96 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

with a dream of our own which we had totally 
forgotten, and which we could not possibly recall 
or recognise, we could not say at once, from the 
form and nature of the dream, that it was our 
own. As a rule the dream is quite unlike the 
waking thoughts and activities of the dreamer. 

It has been the custom until recently to regard 
dreams as nonsense, as of no importance. The 
use of such phrases as "You must have dreamt 
it," or "It seems like a dream," show the current 
mode of looking upon these products of our 
sleeping life. Savages and primitive peoples have, 
however, everywhere paid great attention to 
dreams, and have drawn up codes for their inter- 
pretation. The less educated and more supersti- 
tious sections of civilised races still have recourse to 
these codes, in the form of "dream-books." It is 
possible to see still, in journals which cater for these 
people, "interpretations" of the dreams of readers. 

If we are inclined to pay attention to dreams 
and to regard them seriously, we are likely to be 
accused of reverting to the beliefs and practices 
of savages and those people to whom reference 
has already been made. But the point of view 
is different. In the first place, the scientific atti- 
tude towards dreams is exactly like the scientific 
attitude towards any other fact. The dream 
is a fact of experience, and may be examined in 
relation to other facts in precisely the same way 
that the facts of chemistry and physiology are 



DREAMS 97 

examined. In the particular view of the teacher, 
the attitude is exactly that which we have already 
adopted towards daydreams: that the dream is 
a product of the child's mental activity, a docu- 
ment that has not been consciously tampered with 
in order to please its parents and teachers. As 
such, it is far too important evidence to be ignored. 

The simple wish-dream that has already been 
referred to needs very little interpretation. It 
affords a clue to the nature of the child's wishes 
in daily life. It is the typical dream of a young 
child, generally inspired by the wants that have 
been baulked of fulfilment during the day. The 
child who has to come away from the Zoo spends 
the night dreaming of the Zoo; the child who 
has been refused a toy possesses it in a dream. 

Even in quite young children we meet with 
dreams which are not capable, at first sight, of 
treatment as simple wishes. The child who wakes 
in terror and cries because it dreamed that a 
terrible creature was about to eat it, can hardly 
be considered as wishing to be eaten. Many 
instances will occur to a reader who is acquainted 
with the dreams of children, or who is able to 
recall a number of his own. 

The following dream is narrated by a boy of 
twelve years of age, a pupil in a secondary school : — 

Case XI. I dreamed that I was in the bath- 
room with my mother. Suddenly I saw two 



98 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

men looking in at the window. They were 
rough-looking men, and I knew that they must 
be burglars. I was very frightened. I cannot 
remember anything more. 

The pupil who narrates the dream is a very 
intelligent boy, who made a most favourable 
impression on the teachers who interviewed him 
immediately before he entered the school. In 
the entrance examination he did so badly, how- 
ever, that he had to be placed in the lower of 
the two forms to which entrants were assigned. 
In class he works well. It is clear that he is one 
of those unfortunate people who are at their worst 
in examinations and tests. 

As the dream had occurred rather more than 
a week before it was communicated, it was im- 
possible to discover what events of the day pre- 
ceding the dream might have acted as inciters, 
or supplied the material. The boy was therefore 
asked to say what his mother and himself appeared 
to be doing in the dream. He said vaguely that 
they appeared to be washing their hands . His 
mother did not seem to be attending to him, 
but to herself. He was then asked to say what 
came into his mind when he thought passively 
of the word " burglars." He said without hesita- 
tion that he was afraid of burglars, and that he 
experienced this fear whenever he found himself 
alone in the house or in darkness. He fears that 



DREAMS 99 

burglars will enter the house or spring out of 
the darkness and attack him. 

His father has repeatedly assured him that his 
fears are groundless. He has a great deal of 
confidence in his father, and believes that when 
he is present there is no cause for alarm. Either 
his father will master the burglars, or the burglars 
will keep away because his father is present. But 
when his father is absent, the fears return. 

Evidently the dream has a real bearing on life. 
So superficial and incomplete an analysis as has 
been given is sufficient to link it up with a body 
of fears. It is useless to dismiss such fears as 
silly or unreal, as every one who has attempted 
to deal with them knows well, since they pro- 
duce the same effects in life for the person they 
affect as if they were well grounded. 

Can we, at this point, trace in the dream a 
wish? The dream represents burglars as appear- 
ing. But the associations that are evoked by the 
word " burglars" suggest that this is an occasion 
when the protection of the father is wished for. 
The appearance of the burglars is an expression 
of the wish for the father's protection. 

The dreamer is a person who cannot stand 
alone. He has not freed himself from an attitude 
of dependence upon his father. His attitude to 
his teachers bears this out. He is dependent. 

He further stated that he frequently had 
dreams which represented a ship at a distance. 



ioo PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

He himself appeared to be swimming towards 
the ship, but made no progress. Questioning on 
this point revealed that he wished very much to 
swim, and had made repeated attempts to learn, 
but could not. He had failed because he was 
unable to "let himself go." 

All these findings are consistent with one 
another. They all represent the boy as failing 
to rely upon himself, as fearing tests which make 
demands upon his capacity for self-reliance, and 
as still leaning for support upon his father or his 
teachers, who represent his father. 

The first point of importance is that we have 
gained from the dream a great deal of knowledge 
about .the boy that would have otherwise not 
been available. An experienced teacher might 
have gathered that the boy was lacking in self- 
reliance, but he could hardly have learned that 
he relied upon his father. It is doubtful if the 
ordinary methods of observation would have 
enabled him to connect the fear (of which he 
would probably never have learned) with the 
partial failure in examinations, or with the 
difficulty in learning to swim. 

There are two ways in which one may proceed, 
having learned so much. One is to point out 
to the boy the nature of the mistake he is making, 
and to endeavour to educate him for self-reliance. 
If the boy can be taught to swim by means of 
special attention to his needs, or if he can be 



DREAMS 101 

encouraged to pass one examination successfully, 
a great deal will have been done. 

The second way is to trace, by means of a 
detailed process of analysis, the origin of the 
attitude and of the wish. This is a slow and 
tedious process, demanding protracted individual 
attention, but it is radical, since it eliminates 
the attitude. The first way may be entirely 
successful, but it is impossible to be certain 
of this. The attitude has not been eliminated, 
and may appear again, even after the lapse of 
years. This is a point that will again be referred 
to. 

Case XII. A boy of ten repeatedly dreamed 
that he was falling down. The details of the 
dream varied, but were taken from experiences 
of the day. Sometimes he would dream, after 
a visit to the beach, that he had fallen from the 
sea-wall, or after a visit to the artificial lake, on 
which model yachts were sailed, that he had 
fallen into the water. From these dreams he 
woke in terror, seeing sometimes the bed rising 
and falling, sometimes feeling very giddy. 

It is not at all easy in such a dream to see 
the fulfilment of a wish. Questioning revealed 
that the boy has a terror of being left alone in 
the house, and a great fear of falling downstairs. 
He used to live in a house where there were 
many steep stairs, and he was repeatedly warned 



102 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

that he would fall down them unless he were 
very careful. 

He was asked a great many questions regarding 
the fear of falling downstairs. No such accident 
had ever occurred, he said very definitely. His 
questioner then went on to assure the boy that 
falling downstairs was not a very serious thing, 
after all, saying that he had often done it him- 
self, and offering to do it again in the boy's 
presence if the latter cared to see it. But the 
boy said that he did not wish to see such a fall, 
and that it was a dreadful thing to think about. 
His questioner persisted that it was nothing of 
the sort. At last the child said, with a good 
deal of emotional excitement, that if he fell 
downstairs he would be ill and much upset. 
"I should shake all over, and be like this," said 
he, and began to make movements of his hands. 
The parents had noticed many times previously, 
on such occasions as the boy was excited, similar 
movements, and had thought of them as "St. 
Vitus' Dance," regarding them as a sign that the 
boy was nervous and highly strung. 

Now it is to be noticed here that an examin- 
ation of the dream has led up to the matter of a 
particular bodily symptom. The bodily symptom 
is described by the sufferer as a consequence of a 
fall downstairs. But the dreams, too, deal with 
falls, and we have already been led to believe 
that, in a great many dreams at least, we are 



DREAMS 103 

confronted with the fulfilment of a wish. We 
meet the possibility, therefore, that the bodily 
symptom and the dream alike express a wish to 
fall downstairs. The conclusion seems absurd. 
But the student of any science learns that he 
must not reject an inference merely because it 
happens to look absurd. Theories are to be dis- 
credited when they are inconsistent with the facts, 
not when they conflict with our prejudices as to 
what they ought to be. 

In the case with which we are dealing, there- 
fore, the possibility that there was a wish to fall, 
not conscious, was kept in mind. It was found, 
on further inquiry, that the child repeatedly day- 
dreamed of falling. He thought of himself as 
falling into a pond, to which his mother often 
took him so that he might sail his yacht. We 
have already discovered that the daydream ex- 
presses a wish whose fulfilment is denied in 
reality. 

We have here, therefore, three lines of evidence, 
all converging on this one point of falling. There 
seems to be a wish whose fulfilment in reality is 
out of the question, but whose fulfilment is in 
some way expressed by "falling." And we have 
the further clue that is to be found in the con- 
scious fear, when the child is left alone in the 
house, of falling downstairs. 

This latter fact makes us inclined to question 
the former hypothesis. If the child fears falling, 



104 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

how can he have a wish to fall? This question 
must be borne in mind, but we must not yet 
cast away an hypothesis for which we have the 
support of three distinct lines of evidence, because 
of a single doubt. 

Let us first examine the doubt itself, and see 
if it can be interpreted to support the hypothesis. 
The conscious attitude is one of horror. But the 
daydream, the symptom and the dream alike prove 
that falling possesses significance. Is there any- 
thing whatsoever in the life of the child, any 
single happening, that has made falling in itself 
something that is at the same time significant 
and terrible? The boy, questioned on this point 
in terms that were intelligible to him, could 
suggest nothing. 

At this point the mother was asked directly, 
"Can you remember an occasion, very early in 

B 's life, when he had a fall?" Without any 

hesitation she told the following story : — 

At the time when B first began to walk a 

little, she took him down into the kitchen and 
left him with the maid. His father, who is a 
dentist, had experienced a rush of work that had 
made it necessary for him to ask his wife to go 
out and cancel an appointment that he had made 
with a patient for that afternoon. 

The kitchen was a very large room, that was 
used as a workroom by the dental mechanics and 
as a kitchen as well. The maid put the child in 



DREAMS 105 

a chair and went on with her work. The child 
got out of the chair and made a few steps. Then 
he fell, and his head crashed against the heavy- 
iron vulcaniser that stood in the middle of the 
room. He screamed loudly. 

His mother was at this moment on the point 
of leaving the house by the street door. She 
rushed back to the kitchen, took the child in her 
arms, and told the maid to go in her place to 
cancel the appointment. She did not remove her 
outdoor clothes, but sat in the kitchen holding 
the child till he ceased to cry. His forehead was 
badly bruised. 

The boy was in the room whilst his mother 
was recalling the story. At its close he said, as 
if making a great effort to remember the events, 
"I can't remember.' ' 

What is of very great significance is that, from 
the time that this analysis of the dreams was 
made, up to the last date that his questioner had 
an opportunity of making inquiries (an interval 
of nearly a year), there has been no recurrence 
of the fright-dream of falling or of the bodily 
symptom of "St. Vitus' Dance." The boy states, 
too, that the daydreams of falling have gone. These 
facts suggest that a considerable readjustment has 
taken place. The nature of adjustment and re- 
adjustment must be considered more fully later. 

Before passing on to the nature of the conclu- 
sions that are to be drawn from the material that 



io6 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

has been examined, it is necessary to draw atten- 
tion to the mode of examination. It will be 
observed that the dream has been taken and 
regarded in precisely the same way that the 
chemist regards a new piece of chemical material, 
or the physicist a natural phenomenon. That is 
to say, the whole procedure has been in accord- 
ance with the scientific method, as that method 
has been developed by thinkers and scientists for 
many years. The elements of mystery, of de- 
pendence upon occult powers or " psychic gifts," 
have been absent. There has been nothing in 
common with the methods of the fortune-teller, 
whether of the caravan or Bond Street species. 
The modern attitude towards dreams is as strictly 
scientific as the attitude of the chemist, or physic- 
ist, or physiologist, or mathematician towards 
the material that these specially consider; and 
the would-be psychanalyst who is seeking for 
mystery and for something "occult" had much 
better leave men's minds alone and confine his 
attention to tea-leaves or cards, where his chances 
of doing harm will be much less. 

Now the incident that has been recalled in the 
course of the inquiry into the dream under con- 
sideration is one that links together the mother 
and falling. The fall was a consequence of inde- 
pendent assertion on the part of the child. It 
was painful, but it brought back the mother, and 
fixed her attention upon himself. For a time the 



DREAMS 107 

child monopolised the mother entirely. Now, in 
his conscious attitude, he fears being left alone, 
but longs for his mother's return. But on a 
previous occasion a fall has brought his mother 
back to him. Therefore we discover here a 
motive for falling. But the fall hurt him badly, 
and injured him. Here is a motive for not fall- 
ing. We have therefore a mind torn between 
two motives. And we have, as a result, the 
presence in consciousness of the idea of the 
mother and of the idea of falling, with the effect 
of distress or fear. 

The attitude that has been revealed is that of 
dependence. There is a fear of the real world, 
a fear of standing alone, a wish to remain depend- 
ent upon his mother, who described her son as 
a "mother's boy." 

A man cannot go through the world success- 
fully as a mother's boy, though many thousands 
are trying. Dependence may become transferred 
to some one who takes the place of the mother, 
to an older woman or to a wife. Traces of this 
are to be discovered in the way in which some 
men call their wives "mother"; and the older 
dependence is shown in the way in which many 
men hold up their mothers as examples for their 
wives, and suggest that the latter should endeavour 
to become like the former. Again, a Londofi firm 
of caterers makes the appeal (since they have con- 
tinued to use it as a slogan for so many years, it 



108 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

is only reasonable to suppose that they have found 
it profitable), "A Cup of Tea as Mother Makes 
It." Not, you will notice, "A Cup of Tea as 
Your Wife Makes It." Their appeal is to adult 
men, of whom one must suppose the majority to 
be married. 

The dream, therefore, ] inked on to the other 
evidence that we were able to gather, and to the 
episode that was recalled in connection with these, 
has revealed an attitude. The little scene in the 
kitchen has become for the child a model of all 
life to be. His own efforts, his own attempts at 
independence, are things that meet with disaster. 
The world is cruel and hostile, something that 
must not be faced, but must be feared. The 
reaction to fear is flight and concealment. 

The child, in his everyday conduct, shows us 
these tendencies remarkably clearly. He flees to 
his mother for assistance, protection and shelter; 
he fears to be left without her. In place of 
living in outward action, he lives within himself, 
in his own mind. The daydream becomes a 
substitute for real life. 

The early episode has significance for him, 
because he was able to judge and value it with 
the mind of a child of two years of age. It 
possesses significance when he is ten years old, 
because it has never been re-judged and re- valued. 
These are impossible whilst it is buried in the 
limbo of forgetfulness. The dream has afforded 



DREAMS 109 

a clue by which we are able to trace it, and 
recall it in such a manner that re-judgment and 
re-valuation become impossible. The dreamer 
sees that the event has not the significance that 
he formerly attached to it, and at once its power 
over his thought and action and feeling have de- 
parted. "Falling" used to possess a significance 
that it possesses no longer. 

We have learned from this dream that "falling" 
did not mean exactly what it is stated to mean 
in the dictionary, but a great deal more. It had 
acquired a meaning as a result of experiences and 
associations that was different from its literal 
meaning, very much as the cross and the crescent 
and certain coloured pieces of bunting have done. 
These things are symbols. 

There seems to be a great deal of reason for 
the belief that the objects that are seen in dreams 
stand as symbols for something different from 
themselves, for something which, as a result of 
the experience of the dreamer or of his race, has 
come to be associated with the symbol. 

It is this matter of symbolism in the dream 
that has given the greatest difficulty to those who 
are prepared to consider the modern theories. 
In the first place, why should symbols appear at 
all, in place of a plain statement of facts? And 
further, are we not, in admitting that symbolic 
values have to be assigned to the objects that 
appear in dreams, joining hands with all the 



no PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

people who pretend to interpret dreams — mystery- 
mongers and charlatans — and endorsing their 
methods? 

These two questions open up very wide issues, 
which are still being hotly discussed. The second 
will be dealt with at once, and the first in due 
course. 

It is possible to buy, at varying prices, " Dream- 
books' ' from newsagents and booksellers. There 
is little difference, except in bulk, between a cheap 
one and an expensive one. The dream-book is 
arranged like a dictionary, and opposite each 
word is given its alleged meaning. Thus, if I 
dream that I see a duck with a rope round its 
neck, it is necessary to search out the meanings 
assigned to duck, to rope, and to neck, and to 
combine these into a whole. Thus, I find, in a 
penny dream-book that I happen to have by me, 
that to dream of ducks means " increased pro- 
sperity and happiness"; of a rope, " money 
troubles"; and of a neck, "power, honour, 
wealth, a legacy.' ' It is a little difficult to know 
how to combine all these together. Perhaps "at 
the moment money troubles stand in the way of 
honour and power, but increased prosperity and 
happiness will follow,' ' will meet the case; it will 
at all events satisfy a number of people, and will 
convince them that the penny has not been spent 
in vain. 

The dream-book has, however, something in 



DREAMS in 

common with the view that we have been led 
to take of the subjects of the dream. It asserts 
that these are to be read as symbols. But the 
dream-book asserts that there is a definite equiva- 
lent for each symbol that appears, and that this 
is the same no matter what the occasion of the 
dream, or who the dreamer. This cannot be 
assumed, and there is a great deal of experience 
that goes to show that it is not true. But there 
are, nevertheless, a few symbols that are fairly 
definite in their meaning, and that seem to 
possess very nearly the same meaning in the 
majority of dreams — such, for instance, as a king, 
who generally signifies the father of the dreamer. 
But this knowledge does not enable us to say 
that beyond all doubt the person who has dreamed 
of a king has been dreaming of his father; it 
merely suggests that this is probable. We can 
hope to discover this with certainty only after 
a close and careful examination of the dream 
and a questioning of the dreamer. We have to 
discover why the father appears as a king, and a 
great many other things, before we can find the 
meaning of and the reason for the dream. In 
other words, our knowledge, derived from expe- 
rience and not from superstition, of what the 
symbol may mean, is nothing more than a faint 
clue : it is by no means a solution. 

Before the point can be pursued of why symbols 
should appear at all, it will be necessary to examine 



H2 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

another dream, in connection with which we 
possess more knowledge of the circumstances 
under which it was dreamed. I take, from a 
very great number that I have by me, together 
with the dreamers' notes on them, the fol- 
lowing (the first person is used, since the account 
is in the dreamer's own words) : — 

Case XIII. I was in a small square church 

of brick, which recalls in some ways St. 's 

Church, L . I am sitting with a number of 

other men at the back. The church seems, with 
the exception of ourselves, to be empty. A 
man, in grey tweed clothes, is preaching. 

I believe we knew that the king would come, 
even before he came. At all events he entered 
from the left, and passed in front of us. As he 
entered, I rose to my feet. The preacher 
shouted, "Wait till you get the order." He 
spoke with a great deal of irritation, giving me 
the impression that I had unwittingly spoiled 
the effect that he wished to produce, and that 
I had, in some way, "let down," not only the 
preacher, but also my college. 

Afterwards, I am outside the church, where I 
apologise to the preacher. He says at once that 
it does not matter, and that I am not to worry 
about it. We are looking at a brick building 
that reminds me of Keble College, but we speak 
of it as Buckingham Palace. I insist, however, 



DREAMS 113 

that it is not Buckingham Palace; but that 
Buckingham Palace lies to the right. The 
church, I say, lies between the building that 
we are looking at and the Palace. But it is 
certain that the king entered the building at 
which we are looking. We discuss the question as 
to how he could have passed from the one building 
to the other, since he is now in the Palace. 

In a later dream of the same night, I am at 
the bedside of my father, who appears to be ill. 
He still takes a great deal of interest in things. 
I am able to tell him that Lloyd George has 
been elected as leader by the "big ten" (for the 
"big twelve"). This apparently means that a 
period of indecision has been brought to an end. 
It seems to me that we talk rather contemp- 
tuously of the "big." Since every thing nowa- 
days is "big," and there is nothing that is not 
"big," nothing is "big." My father seems less 
contemptuous than myself, or at least expresses 
himself less vigorously. 

Asked to recall some of the events of the day 
of the dream and the preceding day, the dreamer 
states: — 

I had been to W 's rooms on the evening 

of the day before the dream. He has been a 
clergyman, but is very unorthodox. He does 
not dress in clerical costume at all, but wears a 



H4 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

tweed suit. He had been talking a good deal to 
me about my "cynical" attitude. I had mildly 
resented his tone, since he was " preaching" a 
good deal, I thought. 

I had asked a man that day if he had met 

of Keble, since the two men have a common 

interest in aesthetic subjects. 

On the day before the dream some men had 
been discussing architecture, and the names of 
Wren and of Inigo Jones had been mentioned. 
Buckingham Palace had been spoken of, and 
discussed as a frankly ugly place. Keble College 
had also been mentioned as an instance of an 
attempt to realise in brick a style that is not 
suited to brick. Some one had argued that the 
one religious style that is adapted for brick is the 
Byzantine. The best example that I know is 
the church of which I dreamed. I remember 
that the church is rather near my home, and that 
the service there is of an advanced ritualistic 
type. My parents were strict nonconformists, 
and I was not allowed to go to church. My 
parents thought that the church was "wrong," 
and that the church of the dream was particu- 
larly so. I remember that I had an intense 
desire to visit it, and I did so frequently, but 
secretly. The vicars (I remember two) used to 
take a part in social work, since the parish was 

partly a slum district. W , too, is a social 

worker. 



DREAMS 115 

The figure in the pulpit is not entirely that of 

W , though he is very much like him. He 

recalls a rather tall, fair man whose name I do 
not know. The day before the day of the dream 
I had been sitting in the balcony of a cafe, 
smoking a pipe. I leaned over to see if there 
were men below with whom I was acquainted 
and dropped some tobacco on to a table below, 
at which this man was seated. He thought that 
I had done it as a joke, and looked up and laughed 
and shook his fist at me. But I am not in the 
habit of dropping tobacco on tea-tables, even as 
a joke; and so I apologised to him as I was 
leaving the cafe. He said, " That's all right, old 
chap. Don't you worry about that": prac- 
tically the same words as the preacher used to me. 

I have speculated a little of late about the 
man of whom I have been speaking. He has 
evidently been in the Army, and has not yet 
lost some of the affectations of the Army officer. 
The Army has been discussed a little during the 
last day or two, in view of the decision to restore 
the pre-war uniforms. The majority of regular 
soldiers whom I knew in the Army professed 
themselves as being glad to be away from these, 
but I always felt that they had a hankering for 
the clothes that distinguished them from other 
men and from other soldiers. They were, in 
any case, proud of their divisional badges and 
other distinguishing marks. 



n6 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

" Letting down" reminds me that I have in 
the last few weeks been pondering the question 
of my future. There are some people, one person 
in particular, who have a right to expect things 
from me. If I do what I want to do, I shall 
"let them down." I have always been averse 
to letting people down. In the Army, much 
as I detested the kind of officer with whom I 
came into contact, and much as I should have 
served my own ends by letting them down 
badly, I was very scrupulous about this point. 
I cannot give any reason, and the conduct does 
not appear to me to be based on any conscious 
principle. 

"Wait till you get the order." I cannot 
remember hearing these words recently, but it 
is very possible that I may have done so, since 
Army phrases are pretty generally heard just 
now. (The reference is to June, 1920.) Gener- 
ally in the Army this was the preface to a good 
deal of hanging about, while some ass or other 
found out what he had to do. I remember 
when we went out on a draft we had to wait two 
days at one place, nearly a week at another, and 
two days at a third, because instructions had not 
been forwarded as to what the draft was for, or 
where it had to go. Three hundred and fifty 
men had to hang about until the War Office's 
intentions could be discovered. Muddles seemed, 
too, to be the rule at Aldershot. Orders seemed 



DREAMS 117 

to me most out of place in a religious service, and a 
parade service always seemed to me comic. The 
chaplain was an odd mixture of officer and 
clergyman, and the service was an odd mixture 
of service and parade. I always wanted to laugh 
when the orders were intruded. I never could 
regard an Army service, even just behind the 
trenches, as a serious thing. 

Lloyd George's name has come up in discus- 
sion several times in the last few days. I had 
been talking of him with W . I have in- 
sisted that men like Disraeli and Lloyd George 
who rise by their own efforts, have to do a great 
many things in the way of " advertisement' ' 
that men who have influence and birth and 
money behind them need not do. It is this to 

which their opponents object. W does 

not agree. He believes that merit succeeds. I 
agree, — if it is sufficiently well advertised and 
displayed. It was in connection with this that 
he charged me with being "cynical." 

There is no need to quote these associations 
at greater length, nor to attempt a full inter- 
pretation of this dream. So soon as we begin 
to question the dreamer about his dream, part 
by part, we discover that it has been made 
up, in great measure, of experiences gathered from 
the happenings of the dream-day or the day 
preceding the dream-day. The experiences that 







n8 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

have been selected are only a few out of 
many hundreds available, and they have been 
arranged and connected together in much the 
same way as a play or a story is composed of a 
number of incidents. To many people, such a 
fact would seem to account completely for 
dreams, and would be regarded as proof that 
dreams possessed neither significance nor mean- 
ing. But such people have not realised the 
nature of the problems presented. If material 
is selected from a great mass that is available, 
and if it is arranged in a certain way, then there 
must be reasons why this material, and no other, 
was selected; and why this arrangement, and 
no other, was chosen. The modern psychologist 
holds that such reasons can be discovered — 
that the dreamer is under compulsion to select 
and arrange in certain ways, and that the nature 
of this compulsion is discoverable from his dreams. 
In succeeding chapters the nature of the com- 
pulsion will be discussed. For the present it is 
necessary to recognise that the material that is 
chosen is chosen because it stands for something 
of significance to the dreamer, and is arranged 
to form a whole that is also of significance to 
him. But here we meet with a paradoxical 
situation, since he is unable to understand it. 
Even the expert psychanalyst is unable to pene- 
trate very far into the meaning of his own dreams, 
and must ask the assistance of another. 



DREAMS 119 

We must recognise, too, that the selection of 
the material is seldom one that we should con- 
sciously make. The dream seems to select 
incidents that we should regard as trivial. It 
may pass over money transactions, momentous 
occasions, and happenings of real importance, 
and utilise the face of a man who sat opposite 
me in the train, or an advertisement that I can 
only recall seeing with a great effort of memory. 
The composition itself, also, is something that 
seems to be alien from anything that the dreamer 
does consciously. The business man, who regards 
romance as merely silly, and who prides himself 
on an entire lack of imagination, yet romances in 
his dreams. The skilled novelist dreams what 
seems to be the most muddled rubbish. These 
are some of the considerations that have led men, 
in all ages, to regard dreams as too absurd for 
serious consideration, or as motivated from some 
source altogether outside man. But it is in these 
considerations that modern psychology seeks for 
clues that will give us the explanation. We shall 
not seek for an explanation outside the dreamer 
until we are compelled to do so, since we do not 
by such assumptions explain (in the scientific 
sense of the word) anything. We merely refer 
what is not understood to what is even less 
understood. 

But it seems clear, at this stage, that we must 
believe, if we are to seek an explanation of the 



*. 



120 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

dream in the dreamer's own mind — that we must 
believe that his consciousness, as he knows it, 
is not the whole of his mind. That there is 
another region, apparently independent of con- 
sciousness, that selects the materials of the dream, 
and that weaves them together, in a manner akin 
to the mode of the dramatist, to form the dream. 



CHAPTER VI 

WORD ASSOCIATIONS 

There are few people who have not, at one 
time or another, speculated as to the source of 
an idea present in the mind, and amused 
themselves in trying to trace backwards a whole 
series of antecedent ideas. The succession of 
these is occasionally surprising, but generally 
follows a rational order. 

Suppose, for the sake of example, that a man, 
on hearing the word " flower,' ' or after thinking 
of flowers, finds that ideas occur to him in the 
following order: Flowers, roses, rose-gardens, 
Saadi, Omar Khayyam. It is possible to dis- 
cover a rational connection between each of 
these ideas and that which precedes it. Rose 
is a member of the larger group signified by 
flowers; experience leads us to seek roses in 
rose-gardens; the "Rose Garden," or "Gulistan," 
is a Persian poem, written by a very well-known 
poet, Saadi; Omar Khayyam comes into the 
mind with Saadi, since both are Persian poets 
who have been translated and are widely read 
by British readers. 

121 



122 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

It is a very common experience that, when the 
mind wanders, a sequence of ideas seems to pass 
through it. No single idea receives any pro- 
longed attention, unless it is an important part of 
one of the daydreams of which mention has been 
made. Before many moments have elapsed, the 
thoughts have strayed very far from the point 
at which they were just before the wandering 
began. The example given previously, which 
began with flowers and ended with Omar 
Khayyam, does not show the apparent lack of 
connection between the first and last numbers of 
a sequence so well as does the following: Flowers, 
roses, garlands, crown, royal person, king, revo- 
lution, wheel, circle, pi, 3*14159 . . ., etc. Here 
we are again able to trace a rational connection 
between each member of the series and that 
immediately preceding it, but no such immediate 
connection is obvious between the first member 
and the last. However, if we are given two 
words, however unconnected they may appear 
to be, it is generally quite easy to interpose a 
number of words that shall make a series of the 
kind that we have been considering, and of 
which one of the words is the first member, and 
the other the last. Thus, to link up the two 
words "cow" and "eggs," the interposition of 
the word "dairy" is sufficient. Cows and 
dairies are linked together in experience, as are 
dairies and eggs. 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 123 

We find, then, that ideas appear in our minds, 
as a rule, in an ordered sequence, which is deter- 
mined by the mode of thought which we adopt. 
This is not very clear until it is remembered that 
logical thought is merely one of many possible 
modes, and that a very great proportion of the 
thought of children and savages follows a different 
mode altogether. If it were possible to get a 
number of people, ranging from young children 
to adults, and from primitive savages to dis- 
tinguished men of science and of letters, and to 
ask these to write down a sequence of twenty 
words representing the ideas that had come into 
consciousness, following the mention of the 
word "flower," we should find great differences. 
We should find differences, not so marked, 
perhaps,, if we asked the whole of the children of 
an ordinary class to undertake a similar task. In 
spite of these differences, psychologists have been 
able to formulate "Laws of Association/ ' which 
merely state the ways in which linkages between 
ideas appear to be formed. But the important 
thing about these laws, that is relevant to the 
purpose of this chapter, is that the connections 
are the result of our experiences and the ways 
in which we have thought about them. It is 
possible, for instance, to imagine a savage who 
would think of "god" and "darkness" as 
consecutive members of a series, and to find a 
European who would think of "god" and 



124 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

"light" in close association. The former has 
brought together two things that he fears in 
much the same way, whilst the latter has been 
influenced by experiences of a different sort, or 
by acceptance of a belief. 

Although there is reason to believe that there 
exists this close connection between sequent 
ideas, it is not always easy to discover it. We 
are often puzzled to account for the presence of 
an idea in our minds, and can find nothing to 
account for it in our current experience or in 
the thoughts we were considering immediately 
beforehand. As a rule, however, the connec- 
tion can be traced, and a failure is to be regarded 
as something a little out of the common run of 
our normal mental life. But we have to believe 
that this exception is only apparent. If, for 
example, the sound of a certain name fills a man 
with a horror for which he cannot account, we 
have to believe that there nevertheless exists a 
reason for the association of this name with other 
things which he dreads, and that there must be 
actual or possible means of discovering it. 

The experiment has been made of giving to 
a subject, one at a time, a large number of words- 
He is instructed that he is, after hearing the 
word (which is called the " stimulus" ), to call 
out the first word that comes to his mind, 
immediately it comes, regardless of whether it 
may seem to him stupid or irrelevant. Should 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 



125 



the word appear to have more than one meaning^ 
he is to take the meaning that first occurs to 
him. Above all, he is not to try to think. 

The following is part of a list of stimulus 
words, with the responses obtained from a 
school-girl of about twelve years of age: — 



Yellow 


colour 


Sea 


drowning 


Man 


person 


Bright 


gold 


Round 


circle 


Feet 


long 


Eyes 


two 


Sail 


ship 


Father 


grown-up 


Dug 


ground 


Fall 


hurt 


School 


teach 


Hurt 


kill 


Nothing 


hole 


Drown 


dead 



At first sight, there is little that is remarkable 
about these responses. There seems to be a 
reasonable connection between each stimulus 
word and that which it evokes. Some of the 
responses seem a little morbid — ideas of drowning 
and death and killing ought not, one would be 
inclined to say, to occur so frequently in the 
mind of a child. 



126 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

In practice, a further complication is intro- 
duced into the experiment. The time that 
elapses between the calling out of the stimulus 
word by the experimenter and the giving of the 
response by the subject, is noted. Since the 
time is small, the unit chosen is generally one- 
fifth of a second. The list already given is 
therefore repeated below. The numbers placed 
after the stimulus word represent this " reaction 
time" in fifths of seconds. 



Yellow 


5 


colour 


Sea 


8 


drowning 


Man 


5 


person 


Bright 


13 


gold 


Round 


9 


circle 


Feet 


9 


long 


Eyes 


9 


two 


Sail 


5 


ship 


Father 


19 


grown-up 


Dug 


9 


ground 


Fall 


9 


hurt 


School 


9 


teach 


Hurt 


19 


kill 


Nothing 


9 


hole 


Drown 


13 


dead 



We have here fifteen numbers, ranging from 
5 to 19. The longest reaction time in this series 
is thus four times the shortest. It is interesting 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 127 

to arrange these numbers, for purposes of com- 
parison, thus: — 

Reaction time Frequency of occurrence 

5 3 

8 1 

9 7 
13 2 

19 2 

Thus, one-half of the responses were given after 
an interval of eight-fifths to nine-fifths of a second. 
One-fifth were given after a much smaller interval, 
whilst about one-fourth were given at the end 
of a considerably greater interval. Eight to 
nine units, therefore, is to be taken as this sub- 
ject's "mean" or "normal" reaction time. 
It is to be noted that this mean differs con- 
siderably with different subjects, and probably 
depends upon the physiological mechanism that 
has to be brought into play. It is important, 
in consequence, to use a very long list of words 
(one hundred is the ordinary number), so that 
we have a means of discovering from them 
what the subject's normal reaction time should 
be. 

We have to regard the low and the high num- 
bers as indications of a departure from the 
normal. These are : — 

Yellow 5 colour 

Man 5 person 



128 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 



Sail 


5 


ship 


Bright 


13 


gold 


Drown 


13 


dead 


Father 


19 


grown-up 


Hurt 


19 


kill 



It will be noticed that of the responses that 
we were inclined to regard as morbid, two were 
given at the end of a delay. Otherwise, it would 
appear that the tabulation of reactions, as set 
out above, has brought to light nothing that is 
extraordinary. 

The experiment is complicated in yet another 
way. After the subject has responded to the 
whole of the stimulus words, they are again 
called out to him, and he is asked to repeat the 
responses that he has already made. Generally, 
he smiles and says that it is obviously impossible 
for him to recall a hundred responses that he has 
made at random. In practice, however, he is 
successful, as a rule, in recalling the majority 
without difficulty. The portion of the list that 
has already been given is repeated below, with 
the addition of the " reproduction.' ' 



Yellow 


5 


colour 


colour 


Sea 


8 


drowning 


drowning 


Man 


5 


person 


grown-up 


Bright 


13 


gold 


gold 


Round 


9 


circle 


circle 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 



129 



Feet 


9 


long 


long 


Eyes 


9 


two 


two 


Sail 


5 


ship 


ship 


Father 


19 


grown-up 


man 


Dug 


9 


ground 


ground 


Fall 


9 


hurt 


hurt 


School 


9 


teach 


learn 


Hurt 


19 


kill 


nasty- 


Nothing 


9 


hole 


horrible 


Drown 


13 


dead 


sea 



Of fifteen reproductions, therefore, nine are 
correct and six are incorrect. Of the incorrect, 
one is found where there was a quick response, 
two where the response was normal and three 
where it was delayed. In other words, we have 
a false reproduction following 33.3 per cent, of 
the quick reactions, 25 per cent, of the normal 
reactions, and 75 per cent, of the delayed reac- 
tions. Here is direct quantitative evidence of 
the existence of something alien from the sub- 
ject's own conscious life. Exactly what this is, 
we cannot yet deduce from the experiment. 
The whole function of the association experiment 
is to put the analyst on the track of what is 
wrong, so that he may follow up these clues by 
other methods. In the case before us, special 
attention would be paid, therefore, to the sig- 
nificance of the words ' 'father," "hurt" and 
"drown" for the subject. 



130 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

What is also of interest and importance is the 
subject's manner of making the response. Some- 
times, for instance, he will make gestures in the 
air with a finger, and say: "You know, I know 
what it is that I want to say, but I can't say it." 
Or he will say, "Nothing comes. My mind is a 
complete blank." Or he will comment upon the 
response, "That's an extraordinary word." 
These things all call for remark. They are 
generally to be found associated with delayed 
reaction times and false reproductions. 

Occasionally the stimulus word is mistaken. 
The experimenter calls out "sea," and the 
subject replies with "cup." Later, when an 
inquiry is made about so strange a response, we 
are told, "I thought you said 'tea.'" This 
may be a perfectly legitimate error, and nothing 
more. But it is to be remembered that the 
subject is undergoing a test, that he has been 
asked to attend as closely as possible, and that 
it is not likely that he will confuse the sounds of 
"s" and "t" unless his attention has relaxed 
very considerably. In any case, further inquiry 
is warranted. 

Very often, after the subject has responded to 
a number of words, he asks the experimenter, 
"Do you want the first word that comes into my 
head?" This interruption of the whole experi- 
ment at this point seems strange, for one would 
have imagined that, after so much experience, 






WORD ASSOCIATIONS 131 

the subject would be confident that he had 
realised exactly what the instructions were. 

Again, when the experimenter calls out a 
stimulus word, the subject repeats it, sometimes 
again and again, before giving the response: 
thus, "sea . . . sea . . . sea . . . mast." Or 
at other times there is a good deal of stammering, 
or blinking, or fidgeting of the body or of the 
fingers, or blushing (that is not accounted for by 
either the nature of the stimulus given or the 
response evoked). These are signs which an 
experimenter learns to recognise and to interpret, 
as a result of experience. It can only be mis- 
leading to make a brief statement of what these 
signs may indicate, for such a statement can 
mean very little to any one who has not experi- 
mented sufficiently to make the allowances that 
are so necessary in individual cases. 

We find, then, that as a result of an association 
test of a subject, we shall discover, in the case of 
a number of words, some or all of the following : — 

(1) Considerably delayed reaction times. 

(2) False reproductions. 

(3) Failure to hear at all, or to hear correctly, 
the stimulus word. 

(4) Comment upon the nature of the response 
or the reproduction. 

(5) Complete inability to respond at all. 



132 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

(6) Inability to understand the instructions 
that have been given. 

It is usual to make further inquiry of the 
subject in reference to these words, generally by 
the method of "free association." 

The subject sits or lounges comfortably in a 
room where there are few things to attract his 
attention. The experimenter sits at a little 
distance from him, in such a position that he can 
see the subject very well, though he is not forced 
upon the latter's attention. The subject is 
asked to allow his mind to remain as passive as 
possible. He is instructed to make no attempt 
to think logically, but to permit his mind to 
11 drift/ ' and to say aloud whatever comes to his 
mind. At first, this is by no means easy. 

Here is an example of the kind of thing which 
may be expected from a good subject. It is a 
transcript of the "free associations' f of a man 
of about thirty years of age. 

"Sea ... I used to bathe in the sea a good 
deal. ... I used to go with a friend of mine, 
who was about two years older. . . . He was a 
good-looking chap, a good deal inferior to 
myself so far as school work was concerned, but 
taller, better dressed, and with a good deal 
more pocket money. I never had much pocket 
money. ... I don't mean that my people 
stinted me. . . . They were as good to me as 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 133 

they could afford to be, but they were frightfully 
poor. . • • I rather used to envy X., since he 
could always buy things that really I suppose 
that I didn't want very much, but the fact that 
he could get them and I couldn't gave them a 
false importance in my eyes. These things have 
not, after all, helped him a great deal, since he 
occupies a very minor sort of place in life at the 
moment and has done for some years. I don't 
suppose that he ever will do better. 

"Sea . . . sailors . . . very deft and handy 
men. I have often wondered how those chaps 
manage to do the things they do up aloft. Per- 
sonally, heights make me dizzy. ... I don't 
know why. ... I have tested myself in all sorts 
of ways, to see if I could conquer the feeling. 
You know, there are ways in which I am afraid 
of heights and ways in which I am not afraid of 
them. I hate looking down. But if I had a 
comfortable seat on the top of a church tower, 
and could sit there and look round and sketch 
or read, I shouldn't fear it in the least. I am 
afraid of slipping . . . heights . . . big posi- 
tions . . . my attitude towards those is that I 
do not take them on — willingly doesn't quite 
express what I mean — but I don't rush at them. 
If one is given to me, then I take it and carry on. 
I can get on quite well, provided all sorts of 
people don't ask me to co-operate with them, or 
worry me to let them co-operate with me. I 



134 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

want to get to look at the thing first, to see it in 
all its bearings, and then to ask people to help 
me in the directions where they are more capable 
than myself. But it is important first to get the 
thing properly analysed and set out. ... I 
notice that I have got from 'sea' to 'see.' 
Punning used to be a habit of mine. Thank 
Heaven, I've got over it. But I remember just 
now a schoolboy tag that ran: 'I went to sea 
to see what I could see, don't you see?' I 
don't know why I should remember it, or where 
I heard it. . . . But I do like to be on the open 
sea, where one gets wide horizons. It is the 
same on the hills or in the desert. To look round 
you and see a wide immensity, bounded by the 
place where the sea and the sky seem to meet is 
fine. I remember — I must have been eight 
years of age at the time — a geography definition 
that I had to learn by heart — 'The horizon is 
where the land and the sky appear to meet/ 
I'm not sure that those were the precise words. 
But I used to love those geography definitions. 
I used to imagine them, and I suppose that, in 
some ways, when I was a kid of eight, I had made 
a world of my own, out of imagination and 
definitions. It wasn't all quite right, as ex- 
perience has proved since. . . . And I remember 
a wretched piece of doggerel that attracted me 
immensely a little earlier about 'where the 
feathery palm-trees rise' . . . and I found 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 135 

Cook's Voyages very tiresome and puzzling, but 
there were very jolly bits in them. I wanted to 
see the whole world ... no special parts at 
first, so far as I can remember. But later, the 
West Coast of Africa, where I was told no white 
man could live. You see, I was quite sure that 
I could live there. 

"But the sea in itself is very fascinating. I 
don't mean that I wanted to run away and be a 
sailor, for I don't think I ever did. But to lie 
on the sand in the warm dusk of a September 
night, and listen to the sound of the water when 
the tide was full. Tennyson's line got me at 
once, the first time I heard it : — 

" Such a tide as seems 
Too full for sound or foam." 

"The idea of men who loved the sea took 
hold of me. I used to lie on the sand, I remem- 
ber, and think of the voice of a woman calling 
to a lover. . . . And I used to reflect that, after 
all, she would only drown him. That the sea 
was fascinating and seductive, but treacherous. 
... I suppose that I had heard somewhere of 
the legend of the sirens. ... At all events, it 
fitted in with the conception of women that I 
had gathered from fiction, I suppose." 

It is unnecessary to give further extracts from 
this series of free associations. But we have 



136 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

found that, in the particular subject referred to, 
associations with the word "sea" lead up to 
his attitude towards life in general, towards 
money, heights, responsibility, co-operation, 
"seeing (i.e. understanding) things," women, 
etc. These associations carry him back to child- 
hood, and partly reveal the way in which his 
present attitude merely continues, or in some 
cases has been evolved from, the attitudes of his 
earlier years. 

But this is the kind of material that was pre- 
sented to us as a result of our analyses of the 
dream and the daydream, and of the study of 
play. The list of responses and reaction times 
and reproductions to our stimulus words is 
therefore an individual psychological document 
that is comparable, because of the inferences that 
we are able to draw from it in reference to the 
individual, to the other documents that we have 
considered. It is a little more cumbrous to 
handle than a dream, but it is extremely valuable 
in cases where we are dealing with a subject who 
is unable to recall dreams, and still more valuable 
as a means of checking the conclusions to which 
the dream leads us. 

The association test may be used to assist in 
making clear the significance of the objects that 
appear in the dream, in the following way. In 
the dream quoted as Case XI (see Chapter IV) 
these objects occur: bathroom, mother, men, 



WORD ASSOCIATIONS 137 

window, burglars. "Looking" seems to be 
important, and also "rough." These words 
might therefore all be used to make up part of 
an association test. One might add the names 
of some of the prominent things that would be 
found in a bathroom, words that seem to have a 
connection with burglars, such as "steal" and 
"rob," and then make up the whole to a hundred 
words or so by the use of quite common words. 
It is advisable that the words used in the test 
should be monosyllabic, or at least very short, 
and that nouns, adjectives, verbs and adverbs 
should all be presented. It is from the common 
words that we shall be able to discover the 
subject's mean reaction time, that will inform 
us as to whether there are delayed associations 
in connection with the words that may have 
significance for the dreamer. 

Here is a method, therefore, which can be used 
in connection with the dream for discovering 
something, something that is deeper in the mind 
of the subject than are the ordinary thoughts of 
which he is aware. The precise nature of what 
is discovered will be discussed later, when we 
pass on to speak of the nature of the conclusions 
that we are to draw about mind from the evidence 
of the dream and the daydream. 



CHAPTER VII 

INTEREST 

It has been recognised for many years that the 
question of interest is one that is of great im- 
portance for the teacher. It is a commonplace 
that children will work well at things that 
interest them, and very badly at things which 
have no interest. Consequently, one of the 
practical problems of the classroom has been the 
giving of interest to the material that is presented 
for study. All kinds of teaching devices have 
been invented for this purpose. 

The student of psychanalysis finds himself, at 
a very early stage of his studies, confronted with 
this problem of interest. He finds that the 
dreams of his subjects present evidence that a 
number of things, whose very existence had been 
forgotten, were yet recalled in dreams. Thus, a 
man dreams of an organ, and then recalls that 
on the night before the dream the 'bus on which 
he was riding had passed a music-hall poster 
which announced that a certain artiste would 
perform on a large pipe-organ. The man in 

138 



INTEREST 139 

question was on his way to an important meeting, 
after which he was to dine in a restaurant, after 
which again he was to meet some interesting 
people. But it was not of the dinner or the 
meeting or the people that he dreamed, though 
he was thinking most of these when he passed 
the music-hall poster. He is not a musician, 
nor is he interested greatly in organs. Yet that 
part of him which dreams had selected from a 
whole mass of material that one detail for 
representation. 

This selection is characteristic of interest. If 
we ask a number of children to write a list of the 
things that they have seen in the window of a 
shop which they often pass, we find that the lists 
differ considerably. A girl's list would differ 
from a boy's as a rule ; and that of a child in the 
infants' department from that of another in one 
of the upper standards. If, again, we ask a 
number of young children to draw a bicycle, it 
is easy to see what interests them from what they 
include in their drawings. Very few will omit 
the lamp and bell, though a great many will not 
include the spokes of the wheels. If children 
are asked to write a piece of composition about a 
shop, choosing any kind of shop they care to 
describe, they will select that one which interests 
them most. There will be more written about 
toy- and sweet-shops than about drapery or 
grocery stores. 



140 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

There is a story told of the composer Batiste 
that serves to illustrate this point. He was 
early in life employed as a scullion, and it is said 
that he discovered that each of the vessels that 
it was his duty to scour possessed a musical tone 
of its own. Soon he had arranged them in a 
scale, and was able to play compositions of his 
own upon them. The chef was annoyed, since 
he regarded the vessels from another point of 
view, cooking being his one interest in life. But 
Batiste, whose one interest was music, had dis- 
covered and selected the musical possibilities 
of the kitchen. In the same way, we hear of 
Handel, as a child, discovering that there was, 
in a garret of his father's house, an old harpsi- 
chord, and stealing upstairs to play it softly, 
when he thought that the other members of 
the family were sleeping. It is not only from 
music that the point in question must be illus- 
trated. Huysmans, engaged in a wine merchant's 
office, found charm in the names of the wines, 
and later used them to build up the curious verbal 
symphonies which appear in his works. But 
these men were doing merely what we are all 
doing every day as a result of our interests. We 
are emphasising some aspects of the world about 
us and ignoring others. 

In some ways, interest resembles a powerful 
searchlight, that reveals some objects with a 
great intensity, whilst it leaves others in obscurity. 



INTEREST 141 

Interest is usually regarded as being of two 
kinds, voluntary or involuntary, according as we 
wish to pay attention to the things that interest 
us at the time, or otherwise. My interest in 
books, money, my work, etc., is voluntary, but 
my interest in piano-organs that make a noise 
beneath my window when I want to read, is 
involuntary. I attend to the piano-organ, or to 
a blazing light, or to a sudden pain, because I 
cannot help doing so. 

But the interest that is discussed in text-books 
of psychology is the interest that compels an 
attention of which we are aware. It is defined 
as a "consciousness of value." The conscious- 
ness is important. The whole definition means that 
interest is an awareness, a knowledge on our own 
part, that the things in question have value for us, 
either directly as ends in themselves, or indirectly 
as connected with ends which we desire. 

The dream has made us aware that interest 
must mean more than this. It shows that we 
are interested in things to which we do not pay 
attention at all, in things from which we turn 
away after a casual glance. If I were asked, an 
hour after I left the 'bus, to describe the man 
who sat opposite me, it is more than possible I 
should have to say, "I cannot do it. I did not 
notice him." But, nevertheless, he seems to 
appear, and to appear with a great deal of detail, 
in my dream. When I see him, and reflect a 



142 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

little, I am able to say, "That is the man who 
sat opposite me in the "bus." 

Why has any part of me paid such attention to 
the man in the 'bus? We cannot give the whole 
answer, in all probability, but it would seem as if 
at least a part of the purpose was to use him in a 
dream. We are reminded of Leonardo da Vinci, 
scanning curiously the faces of the people in the 
streets, that he might use them in his pictures. 
But when we have said so much, we have said 
little enough of the purpose of Leonardo, which 
is really, one would suppose, to be found behind 
his pictures, expressing itself in them. And if 
we say, too, that some part of us is interested in 
many things, in order that it may make dreams 
of them, we shall fall short of discovering its real 
purpose. The object of the dream, as it appeared 
from the partial study made of them in Chapter 
IV, was to gratify an instinctive wish — to repre- 
sent that wish as fulfilled. So that it would 
seem that the selection of objects for recollection, 
apart from our will and our knowledge, outside 
the realm of what we term our " interests," goes 
on in order that our unfulfilled wishes may be 
fulfilled through dreams. The conclusion seems 
extraordinary, but must not be rejected on that 
account. It must be rejected only if the reason- 
ing is found to be faulty, or if the facts upon 
which that reasoning is based are regarded as 
not facts at all. 



INTEREST 143 

Such a conception as this seems to suggest that 
most of us are at least two, rather than one. 
One part of us goes through the day, attending 
to things that are of interest — doing, thinking 
and remembering. At the same time it would 
seem that another part of us is attending to 
quite different things, and storing up memories 
of them in some inaccessible region of the mind, 
whence they are produced at such times as the 
" conscious' ' part of the mind is sleeping and 
inactive. Then it is we dream, and our dreams 
are often totally different from our activities of 
the day. This theory has something in common 
with the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, 
though we do not postulate the goodness of the 
one and the badness of the other. We go through 
our waking life as one person, and another person 
lives while we sleep. 

It is not necessary to accept this last statement 
too literally, but we have already discovered a 
great deal of evidence for believing that mind 
extends a great way beyond consciousness. It 
used to be the custom to speak of the region that 
lies outside consciousness as the " subconscious/ ' 
but the term is now generally discarded. It 
implies that it exists in a subordinate capacity, 
and this is by no means the case. It is now more 
usual to speak of three regions of the mind: the 
"conscious mind," which is the mind with its 
contents of which I am aware at the present 



i 4 4 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

moment; the l 'fore-conscious mind/' which in- 
cludes the contents which have at one time or 
other been conscious, and which may be made 
conscious again at will, through an effort of 
memory; and the " unconscious mind," of whose 
contents I cannot become aware unless through 
an analysis made by somebody else. We are 
very far from knowing the whole of the contents 
of the unconscious mind, and what knowledge 
we have has come through the study of dreams 
and fantasies, through association tests, through 
the study of hypnotism, and as a result of the 
study of myths and literary products. But it 
would seem that all that is or ever has been in 
the individual consciousness is still in the mind, 
from which it follows that the " conscious mind" 
must be a very small part indeed of the whole. 
An iceberg has often been used as an illustration, 
the small visible portion representing the "con- 
scious mind," and the submerged portion the 
"fore-conscious mind" and the "unconscious 
mind." 

Very few men are placed in the position of 
being able to satisfy all their desires. The ma- 
jority have to serve in some subordinate capacity. 
The children in our schools are similarly placed. 
Men say that they "like work" and children say 
that they "like school." Both statements are 
partly true. There is nevertheless considerably 
less excitement about the return to school after 



INTEREST 145 

holidays than there was about the breaking up. 
Few workmen continue working after some one 
has left them sufficient money for them to live 
comfortably without further labour. Though 
school and work may be regarded without any 
strong feelings of hostility, neither affords, as a 
rule, any opportunity of complete living. The 
workman has to put off till the evening or till the 
Saturday or the Sunday many of the things that 
he wishes to do, and the child has to plan for the 
holidays. There are things that the workman 
may not do because he is in a subordinate capacity, 
or because he is not wealthy. The child wishes 
for things which he may not have, because his 
parents withhold their consent. He wishes, too, 
for things that he must not wish. 

One of the things for which nearly every child 
has wished is the death of one or other of his 
parents. This sounds very dreadful until we at- 
tempt to realise what death means to a child. 
Children talk very cheerfully about death. One 
little girl I know has formulated the theory that 
people are put into the ground to wait to be 
turned into birds, and that birds are dead people 
who have come back again. How she arrived at 
this conception none of the people who have charge 
of her has the least idea. Holt speaks of a little 
boy who said to his mother, "I know father's 
dead, but I do not understand why he doesn't 
come home to breakfast.' ' In the hero legends 



146 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

of primitive peoples the hero's death is often 
represented as a going away that will be followed 
by a return. The dead return in some way or 
other in most primitive systems of belief, so that 
the child, in relating death to a departure, is 
merely recapitulating a primitive mode of thought. 

We are at first inclined to feel repelled at the 
idea that the child wishes or has wished for the 
death of one of its parents, because we do not 
sufficiently realise that the young child's mode of 
thought is different from our own. We are here 
repeating the error that many people have made 
when arriving at an estimate of savages, in com- 
plete forgetfulness of the fact that the savage 
has his own way of looking at the practice that 
the observer finds repugnant to him. If the 
child knew what an adult man knows of death, 
and had the child the adult's conception of moral- 
ity and of filial duty, it would be a horrible thing 
if he should wish the death of a parent. But the 
child does not understand death as we understand 
it, and he has, from our point of view, no morality 
at all. Consequently all grounds for regarding 
the wish as horrible are removed. 

The desire to kill, the wish for death, are mani- 
festations of the combative impulse. This impulse 
comes into operation when another is thwarted. 
The child sees the flame, and wishes to take it 
in his hand, to possess it. His father or mother 
intervenes. The child is angry. If he cannot 



INTEREST 147 

speak, he struggles furiously and tries to strike 
the person who is holding him back. If older, 
he says that when the other is not there, he will 
touch the flame. The wish for death is expressed, 
as a rule, as the wish for absence, though occa- 
sionally children are more explicit. I have known 
of a boy saying, "Mother, I wish father would 
never come home again.' ' The wish is transient, 
as a rule, and a little while after it is expressed 
the child is showing affection for the parent 
against whom he expressed such marked hostility 
a short time earlier. 

But in this expression of hostility to a parent 
we have the beginnings of an attitude towards 
restraint. Such personages as the teacher, the 
employer, any person who is in a position of 
authority which necessitates the imposition of a 
will other than his own upon the subject, recalls 
again the combative impulse. Often at such a 
time the subject dreams that his father is dead. 
Sometimes he dreams that he is killing his father, 
but more often that he is present at his father's 
funeral. If he has heard of the meaning of 
dreams, as it has been developed in this book, 
he is at a loss to reconcile his own experience with 
theory, since he most emphatically does not wish 
that his father were dead. And if he should happen 
to be an elderly man, whose father is already dead, 
then he is apt to regard the theory with a certain 
amount of amusement. But the theory holds 



148 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

good, even here. The present conflict with 
authority has recalled that earliest struggle, and 
the dreamer is represented, through the symbol 
of the dead father, as triumphing over those who 
impose their will upon him and restrain him from 
acting according to his own wishes. 

I remember, in this connection, a small girl 
who had an orphan pointed out to her with the 
remark, "That little girl hasn't any father or 
mother.' ' "Hasn't she?" she asked. "And can 
she do just as she likes?" 

Perhaps we may find here the reason for at 
least a part of the great interest that more fortu- 
nate children show in orphans and stories about 
orphans, which older people often ingenuously 
fancy arises from moral and philanthropic motives 
that are quite unknown to the child. 

It must be borne in mind that the parent 
plays two parts at least in the early and formative 
years of the child's life: sometimes indulging and 
sometimes repressing. The repression has behind 
it good reasons that the child cannot understand. 
If a child is refused a toy, for example, because 
the toy is too expensive, it is unable, since it 
knows nothing of the value of money, to see 
any further reason than an unwillingness to give 
it the toy in question. It does not believe that 
there can exist a money difficulty for its parents. 
It knows nothing of the difficulties that exist in 
connection with money, of the difficulties in the 



INTEREST 149 

way of procuring it, and of the planning that is 
necessary in connection with the spending of it. 
It asks, "Will you buy me that toy?" When 
the reply is in the negative, the child goes on 
to ask, "Why won't you buy it?" If told that 
the cost is too great, the child will ask, "How 
much is it?" "Ten shillings. ,, "That isn't 
very much money. I know that you've got ten 
shillings." And if all this persuasion is in vain, the 
child concludes, and sometimes says, that the 
parent is "unkind." The remarks quoted here 
are given, almost verbatim, from the conversa- 
tion of a girl of four years of age. Any one who 
is at all familiar with small children could recall a 
great many instances of similar kind. 

Occasionally the child follows up the remark 
about the parent's unkindness with a statement, 
"I don't like you," or with one that has a pre- 
cisely similar meaning. It learns very early in 
life that it is not wise to express itself openly 
to this effect, but no amount of repression of 
frank expression can prevent the thought. A 
refusal is generally followed by conduct that 
leaves no doubt in the mind of the observer that 
the child has been angered : its expressions of affec- 
tion cool, and its manner becomes aloof or sullen. 

On the other hand, indulgence is followed with 
protests of affection. 

The proportion between indulgence and refusal 
varies as time goes on. In its first year or so of 



150 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

life the child wants few things, and these are 
given it so soon as the want is made known. 
The parent is regarded as primarily, if not wholly, 
a person who loves and gives. It is later, as the 
desires extend and include all kinds of wishes 
that cannot possibly be indulged, that the parent 
who denies is met with. How is the child to 
reconcile these antitheses? 

Certainly in some cases the effort at recon- 
ciliation is not successful. The child appears to 
imagine that the parents who now deny its wishes 
are not the parents who till recently gave it all 
it wished for. These latter have gone away, or 
are dead, and unkind parents have taken their 
place. The "Cinderella" story, so popular the 
world over, either in the form in which we know 
it, or in one of the many hundreds of variants, 
is invariably the story of the child whose loving 
parent is dead, and whose stern step-parent rules 
her and makes her do the things she dislikes. 
The older children, who dominate Cinderella, 
and are the allies of the step-parent, are the 
children of the latter. This story is so popular 
with the majority of children because it echoes 
a belief about themselves that they consciously 
hold or have held. It expresses the conviction, 
also, that in the future the past will return, and 
that Cinderella will again be loved for herself 
alone, and will be recognised as the superior of 
the people who now dominate her. 



INTEREST 151 

People who admit the attitudes that have been 
spoken of as occurring in children, will in general 
be inclined to say that these matter very little, 
since the children will grow out of them as they 
become older. Experience, and particularly such 
experience as has been gathered in the course of 
psychanalytic investigations, goes to show that 
this view is not correct. In very many cases this 
early attitude towards the parent follows the child 
throughout his school life, into his adult years, 
and is the cause of a great deal of real and serious 
trouble. The early relations with the parent, as 
misunderstood by the child, may prove a handicap 
to the child throughout life. 

Case XIV. A young woman states that she is 
afraid of the dark. She says that many years ago 
she used to look under her bed to see if anybody 
was hidden there. During the war she felt com- 
pelled to look under her bed to see if there were 
Germans or bombs, though she knew that the 
idea was ridiculous. She is very frightened, 
when she is ironing at home, to carry the heated 
iron from the stove to the ironing-table, fearing 
that she will fall and burn herself. She very much 
dreads physical pain. 

She has the idea that the burglar, who may be 
hidden under the bed, will murder her. She 
hardly means by this "kill her completely/' but 
"injure her seriously/ ' If she found a burglar 



152 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

there, or a German, she would scream. This 
would call the attention of the household to her- 
self, and bring everybody to her assistance. When 
she is going alone upstairs in the darkness, she 
feels that she wants to call for her mother. 

If she fell down with the iron she would burn 
herself. This would mean that she would attract 
the attention of her mother to herself. Her 
mother would make a great deal of fuss of her, 
and would bandage the injured spot. 

At this point the subject said, "I have always 
felt that mother was undemonstrative. I have 
sometimes doubted whether she loved me at all, 
and have often wished that she would show it 
more." 

Later, when asked about the other members of 
the family, the subject stated that she had a 
brother, younger than herself. "I have always 
thought that mother made a good deal more fuss 
over my brother than of me." 

Psychanalytic practice has led us to believe that 
every irrational fear conceals an instinctive wish 
of some kind that has been repressed. The 
repression may arise out of circumstances, or it 
may be imposed by a parent, a teacher, by 
morality or religion. One is, therefore, inclined 
immediately to ask, "If the feared conditions 
were realised, what would be the result?" And 
so, in the case that has just been quoted, we see 



INTEREST 153 

that the fears are an expression — a morbid 
expression — of the wish to be loved, and to see 
that love demonstrated unmistakably. But the 
wish for the love has to be repressed on account 
of circumstances, since the subject's mother is a 
woman who is not demonstrative. A condition 
of affairs has therefore to be realised that will 
wake the mother into demonstrativeness. This 
condition can only arise through circumstances 
of danger and injury to the subject. 

But these circumstances are such as would 
naturally be feared by normal people. Bodily 
injuries, that threaten life or cause pain, give 
rise to fears in the subject also. 

Thus an extraordinary state of things arises. 
The woman wishes for things that will call her 
mother's attention to her, and call forth expres- 
sions of love and tenderness. At the same time 
she fears the things that will produce this effect. 
She is wishing for things and fearing them at the 
same time. 

The ordinary woman, with the normal per- 
son's attitude towards burns and pain, is not 
afraid to carry a heated iron across a room. 
She does not think of the likelihood of her falling 
down and burning herself. She probably takes 
ordinary precautions and reasonable care, and 
thinks no more of the matter. But this woman, 
whose case we are considering, has an interest 
in burning herself, because through this she will 



154 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

be able to gratify her longing for demonstrative 
affection. And because she has an interest, she 
cannot help thinking about the possibility of 
burning herself. And since she is a normal 
person, she cannot help thinking about burning 
herself without having fear of it at the same 
moment. We have really come down to the 
problem of explaining, not why she is afraid of 
burning herself, because this fear is common to 
all of us to some extent, but why she cannot 
help thinking about burning herself at times 
when she is unlikely to do anything of the sort. 
We should all be more or less frightened at the 
discovery of a burglar in our bedrooms, but the 
majority of us will be content to wait until one 
is there before we become afraid. We shall not 
imagine that one is there. We shall reflect that 
on the whole burglary is rather rare, and the 
chances against a burglar being concealed under- 
neath the bed are very great indeed. But the 
woman of whom we are speaking looks there 
every night. She is interested in burglars because 
she is desirous of attracting the attention to 
herself of the other members of the household. 
In a sense, we are not much exaggerating when 
we say that there is present a wish for a burglar 
to be there. She must think of burglars, because 
their presence would bring her wishes to fulfil- 
ment, and she cannot think of them without 
fear. 



INTEREST 155 

We shall find in children that the very common 
fear of the dark is to be explained in some similar 
way. It is no explanation to say that the child 
is Cl timid," or that the fear is " natural/ ' These 
ready-made explanations merely mean that the 
child is afraid of the dark and that most children 
are afraid of the dark. We have merely stated 
here what we knew before, in slightly different 
language. In practice, one child's fear of the 
dark is found to be different from another child's 
fear of the dark. It is impossible to give an ex- 
planation here that will cover all cases. Psych- 
analysis emphasises very strongly what every 
discerning teacher and parent already knows — 
that each child is an individual problem. 

The key to the situation, so far as a single 
master-key can be said to exist, would seem to 
be the answer to the question: In what way 
would the realisation of this irrational fear fulfil 
a wish? The child should be allowed to talk 
about his fear, what would happen if the feared 
event occurred, what would follow, and so on. 
He should not be contradicted or rebuked, sug- 
gestions should not be made to him, and very 
few questions should be put. After a time there 
will very clearly emerge an indication of a body 
of wishes and of an attitude towards the self. The 
wishes and the attitude alike will, as a rule, be 
found to be connected with the subject's early 
home circumstances, as he understood them at 



156 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the time, and with questions involving love, 
rivalry, and authority. As a rule, it is possible 
to discover some early circumstance, some acci- 
dent or event that has made a deep impression on 
the conscious mind of the subject at the time, but 
that has since been forgotten, or is remembered 
only with difficulty. 

Case XV. A woman of about thirty years of 
age had a morbid horror of cats, somewhat like 
that of the late Lord Roberts. She could hardly 
bear to remain in the same room or even the 
same house as a cat. 

She narrated the following dream: "I was 
standing with something in my hand, which I 
was holding very tightly. I looked down and 
to my horror saw that I was holding a kitten, 
which I had squeezed to death. I was very 
distressed, because, although I detest cats, I 
would not willingly hurt one for any thing.' f 

The circumstances of her life about the time 
of the dream were these. She had applied for a 
post that was higher than the one she was holding. 
She held a certificate granted by an examining 
body, which we will call X. She was chosen 
for an interview, but discovered that the members 
of the board before whom she appeared were 
interested in another examining body (which we 
will call Y) and refused to consider the certificates 
issued by X. 



INTEREST 157 

She applied for a second post, and was again 
selected for an interview. She discovered, how- 
ever, that the members of this second board 
were interested in Y, and refused to recognise 
the certificates of X. Consequently she declined 
the interview. 

She applied for a third post, and at the same 
time wrote to the secretary of X, stating her 
experiences, and saying that X should take 
measures to see that the holders of its certificates 
were treated fairly. It was now that she dreamed 
the dream recorded above. 

In reply to a question, she stated that the 
first thought that came into her mind when she 
thought of a cat was deceit. Deceit made her 
think of a girl who had been sent into a room 
to dust, but who began to read instead of work- 
ing so soon as she found herself alone. This she 
admitted was a personal experience. The person 
who used to send her to dust was her elder sister. 

The elder sister dominated her a great deal. 
She did not resent this very much. What she 
could not forgive in the elder sister was her 
favouritism for a younger sister. The latter was 
very pretty, whereas the subject was considered 
plain. As a small child she had crooked legs, 
straight hair, and a cast in one eye. She has 
grown out of these defects, and now realises their 
unimportance. But they used to result in a good 
deal of praise for the younger sister, whilst she 



158 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

herself was ignored. The younger sister was 
taken out a good deal more, "shown off/' and 
dressed in a prettier way. She states that the 
mother and elder sister always used to say that 
the two girls were dressed and treated alike, but 
that she was convinced that the younger sister 
was favoured. 

She says that the preference for the younger 
sister used to make her very miserable. She 
used to weep about it, and used to feel jealous. 

At this point she was asked, "What is the 
name of your younger sister?" 

"Katherine," she replied. 

"Used you to call her Katherine ?" 

"Oh, no, never," said she. "We used always 
to call her Kitty. . . . But I never wanted to kill 
my sister" 

It is interesting to notice, in this case, that 
without any suggestion on the part of her inter- 
locutor, the subject suddenly realises that the cat 
she consciously hates is the sister of whom she 
used to be so jealous. The vindictive thoughts 
that were felt in early childhood are repressed 
so soon as she is able to realise that they are 
"wicked," and are directed towards a harmless 
substitute, a cat. The hatred still lives. Only 
its expression has been repressed. 

The occasion of the dream is one that repeats 
in Qutward form the circumstances of her early 
childhood. The candidates who hold the cer- 



INTEREST 159 

tificates of Y are unfairly preferred to her. Hence 
these stand in relation to herself as "Kitty" 
used to stand to her. Her action in writing to 
X is designed to enable her to defeat her rivals, 
as her once-cherished plans against "Kitty" 
would have enabled her to defeat her sister. 
Her wish is to be successful against rivals. Hence 
the dream shows her as crushing a "kitty" to 
death. . . . The questioning brings into con- 
sciousness the repressed attitude towards her 
sister, whom she has now learned to love. Hence 
there are in consciousness two opposed judgments, 
viz. : — 

(a) I want to kill my sister. 

(b) I do not want to kill my sister. 

Since no normal human being is able to enter- 
tain as true at the same time two judgments, one of 
which is the contradiction of the other, one of 
the two must be destroyed. In the case in ques- 
tion (a) is destroyed, because (b) is regarded 
as true. The pent-up jealousy is released and 
dissipated, and as a result the fear of cats has 
completely gone. 

If an attitude towards a parent can transfer 
itself to a cat or a cow, or can express itself in a 
fear of the dark, or of burning oneself with a 
hot iron, it is less surprising than it would other- 
wise be to find it transferred to the teacher or 
to certain lessons. A result of the practical 
necessity of teaching boys in large classes is that 



i6o PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the teacher's relation to the pupil is one of au- 
thority, which is nowadays less expressed in 
punishments than in commands and prohibitions. 
The teacher stands a great deal less for the 
loving parent than for the repressing and deny- 
ing parent. The pupil may by now have begun 
to understand something of the reasons under- 
lying his parent's denial of some of his wishes, 
but he is, at all events in the course of his early 
years at school, very far from understanding why 
he must sit still, remain quiet, and listen to the 
exposition of a number of subjects that interest 
him very little. The authority of school has no 
sort of reason behind it save the will of the 
teacher — or at least appears to the pupil to have 
none. The whole reason for the things he has 
to do is that the teacher wills them, and says 
that they are to be done. There are three pos- 
sible attitudes that may be evoked as a response, 
and all may be seen very clearly in an average 
class : — 

(a) The open defiance, which seems to express, 
"I shall do as I like, not as you like/' 

(b) Sullenness, which seems to say, "If I can- 
not do as I like, neither will I do as you like." 

(c) Obedience, which expresses, "If I do as 
you like, then you will be kind to me and allow 
me to do as I like." 

These are precisely the attitudes that are 
evoked by the treatment of the child by the 



INTEREST 161 

parent, when the latter first begins to discipline 
the former. They are, so to speak, ready-made 
before the child comes to school. The more 
nearly the teacher recalls the parent, the more 
certain is it that the child will substitute him 
for the parent, and adopt towards him the 
attitude that was formerly adopted towards the 
parent. 

The attitude itself is expressive of an interest. 
Defiance, sullenness, and obedience of a certain 
kind express the interest of the child in what 
it " likes' ' — that is to say, in the instinctive 
wishes that are not allowed scope in the school, 
in the same wishes that we have already found 
fantastically gratified in daydreams. The work 
of the school is at first interesting only so far as 
it permits gratifying expression of the child's 
instinctive wishes. 

This is an interest of a very different kind from 
that which we have spoken of as conscious interest. 
The child who has decided that he is to be a 
chemist will devote himself to all kinds of tasks 
that would otherwise be unattractive, but which 
he has become convinced will help him towards 
his end. His interest is here directly connected 
with a consciousness of value. Many interests 
in life are to be explained in this way. But it 
seems impossible wholly to explain an interest in 
this way. If I find a boy studying geography 
or foreign coinage because he is interested in 



162 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

stamps, I still have to ask the question: Why is 
this boy interested in stamps? Even if he ex- 
plains to me that he has an uncle who is interested 
in stamps, there is the further question to be 
asked: Why has the boy chosen this hobby of an 
uncle for imitation, rather than another? Or, 
why should he select the hobby of this particular 
man, rather than that of another, for imitation? 
Finally we shall be driven to the statement, that 
there is " something" in the boy that has made 
the collection of stamps, or the imitation of a 
particular man, gratifying to him. 

An explanation of this sort has not led us far. 
We have said, in effect, that this boy likes stamps 
because he is the kind of boy who is likely to like 
stamps. And we feel when we see the boy at 
work with his collection, and observe the ardour 
that goes with all that he does with them, that 
his statement that he collects because his uncle 
does so is an excuse rather than a reason. It 
may have been his uncle who first put him in 
the way of collecting; but this fact does not 
explain the charm that stamps have come to 
possess for him, his readiness to part with pocket- 
money and to give up real pleasures, for the sake 
of buying fresh specimens. During the current 
week a teacher has spent a good deal of time in 
showing him how to master simple equations; 
but the boy has not sacrificed a single pleasure 
to gain more time to work examples of simple 



INTEREST 163 

equations. The boy is spoken of as being "keen" 
on his work; but "keenness" is here a relative 
term, and the "keenness" for algebra is not for 
a moment to be compared with that for stamps. 

We have to believe that the stamps have 
afforded a means of gratification that is superior 
to that which is afforded by anything else at the 
time. We cannot explain this by any reference 
to the stamp, which is a piece of paper, faced 
with a coloured design and backed with a layer 
of gum, and worth a sum of money which may 
be little or much. It is clear that we cannot 
explain the absorbing interest by reference to the 
stamp, and that we have to attempt to explain 
it by reference to the boy. In one case of a boy 
who collected stamps, and whose one idea seemed 
to be to amass a considerable collection, the 
interest ceased so soon as his father bought him 
one. Obviously the interest centred round the 
amassing, rather than about what was the result. 
The father had made this interest impossible, 
since he had not realised precisely what the 
interest was. We shall make the same error, if 
we hastily conclude that all boys who collect 
stamps are moved to do so by the same interest, 
or that the interest is motivated by the same 
purposes, or if we take as the whole truth the 
reasons that the boy assigns when we question 
him. 

The boy may be moved by an idea that seems 



164 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to move primitive people, as well as a great many 
men who are not, at least in some directions, at 
all primitive. It is the idea that property is in 
some way an extension of oneself, and that the 
possession of property, of no matter what kind, 
makes one "big," and therefore important. In 
such a case the mere size of the collection 
would be of paramount importance. In another 
case the idea may be to be the possessor of 
something of "worth" or "rarity," and to be 
therefore of "worth" or "rarity" oneself. The 
boy identifies himself with his collection, which 
makes him able to dominate his fellow-collect- 
ors. ! He is "bigger," "better" or "more excep- 
tional" than those with whom he comes into 
competition. 

Here, again, we meet with the idea of rivalry. 
Rivalry is naturally concerned with the idea of 
self-assertion. Assertion ceases to be assertion 
when it reaches no higher level than that of a 
great many people in one's immediate neigh- 
bourhood; but becomes assertion when it excels 
this. Hence successful assertion is connected 
with outdoing, with competition. 

The child who is weak and defective in some 
physical respect, has from the very first years of 
its life an interest in outdoing others. We are 
often surprised by the vigour, the zeal, and 
sometimes the arrogance or truculence of small 
men and women. The number of men and 



INTEREST 165 

women who are pursuing with energy tasks which 
are evidently beyond their physical or mental 
strength, is surprising. The man who is handi- 
capped realises, more than any other, the nature 
of the competition, the value of effort, and the 
importance of the race. The so-called "wish 
to be first" is a common motive with neurotic 
children. These are the children who labour at 
home-work, putting an altogether dispropor- 
tionate amount of effort into their tasks, in order 
that they may become " first' ' in the class. 
Some, realising that the struggle is hopeless, 
abandon themselves to daydreams, whose theme 
is the victory of the dreamer over every rival, 
by means of pre-eminence in tasks which he can- 
not perform in reality. The child who daydreams 
in this way shrinks from tests, since there is a 
possibility at least that these would not place 
him in the coveted "first" position. ' Every 
teacher will recall the trouble that is caused, at 
the end of a term, by the absence of children, 
through unaccountable illness, from the examina- 
tions. The trouble is the greater since among 
the children who are so absent are some who 
have worked conspicuously well throughout the 
term, and whom the teacher hopes to see take 
prominent positions on the class-lists, and possibly 
to recommend for promotion. 

This is not to say that there are not genuine 
cases of illness. There are. But experience goes 



166 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to suggest that the proportion of illnesses is gen- 
erally higher when examinations are being held. 
The weather cannot be held to account, since 
Christmas, Easter and Midsummer have little 
in common, so far as this factor is concerned. 
"Worry" may be assigned as a cause, but the 
term is in need of explanation. Without defin- 
ing the term at all, we may admit that worry arises 
when there is mental conflict. The conflict in the 
mind of the neurotic child is the desire to take 
the first place in the class, and the desire to avoid 
the test. The illness is thus to be regarded as an 
"arrangement," as a compromise. The child's 
absence from the examination is honourably 
explained. Its place in the class is explained 
thus: "I don't really know where I stand, since 
I was ill when the examinations were being held." 
At the moment I know a girl, who admits frequent 
daydreams of being first in the class. Since her 
admission to a secondary school she has taken 
only one examination completely. Before each 
of the others she has had trouble with her eyes, 
which has made a visit to the oculist necessary. 
On each occasion the oculist has discovered that 
her sight has completely changed since she was 
fitted with glasses. She has to wait till the new 
glasses can be made. Meanwhile the examina- 
tion has been held. ... Of her position in the 
class this girl says: "I do not know where I stand. 
You see, I was not able to take the examination 



INTEREST 167 

because of my eyes. . . . When I did take the 
examination, I was the third in the form." 

It has to be admitted that the difficulty with 
the eyes creates a situation which is in accord 
with the girl's attitude towards her class. More- 
over, though the situation proves so convenient, 
its arrangement cannot be effected consciously. 
It is impossible that, by any conscious effort 
of will, she could alter her vision, or that she 
could successfully deceive a capable oculist. 
Again, the changes in her sight have frightened 
her, and she has a fear of becoming blind. But 
it is impossible to escape the conviction that 
there is a causal connection between the incidence 
of examinations and the difficulties that arise 
in connection with her sight. The full connection 
of the two cannot be stated, since no detailed 
analysis of the case has been made. 

For such cases as these the school does not 
provide. The teacher may decide that the girl 
is to be counted as the bottom pupil in the form. 
This makes no difference, since the pupil regards 
herself as the first in the class, and has as much 
real evidence in favour of her opinion as the 
teacher has in favour of the one she adopts. Con- 
sciously the pupil does not desire to avoid ex- 
aminations. She " worries' ' about them and 
admits that she does not like them. When they 
arrive her eyes are troublesome, and the doctor 
has given instructions that she is to do no work 



168 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

until the new glasses have been made. She is 
able to sit and build airy castles, whilst her 
fellows actively compete against one another. 
But for all this she has no conscious control over 
the condition of her eyes, and she cannot, in view 
of expert opinion, be accused of malingering. The 
matter is much more subtle. 

We have to believe that behind the phenomena 
we have been considering there lies a strong 
interest, an egoistic interest in herself and her 
relation to other people. There is an interest 
in herself as " first.' • And since she fears blind- 
ness, there is an interest, too, in this. It is 
impossible to say, without a very searching 
inquiry into this girl's past, where and when she 
realised that blindness was a condition that at- 
tracted the attention of others, and made a blind 
person an object of solicitude and care. But 
there is little doubt that there has been an 
episode, that has been wrongly understood by 
her in the past, and has led her to believe that 
blindness was a condition that would realise for 
her a body of egoistic wishes. In the sequel, the 
conditions that threaten to frustrate the wishes — 
such as an examination — evoke the fear of 
blindness and the trouble with the eyes. 

Every teacher has experience of the way in 
which a cough is used by pupils in a class. It is 
difficult to believe that the coughing is not de- 
liberately done in order to make a noise at a 



INTEREST 169 

given moment, so effective is it in disturbing the 
class, in spoiling an effect, or in enabling the pupil 
to attract attention to himself. Once a cough 
has broken the silence, others will follow. But 
it is merely necessary to look back a little, and 
to remember the occasions on which one has 
coughed oneself, to discover that the cough is not 
realised as one that is merely simulated. But 
when so much has been admitted, it must still 
be recognised that the very convenience of the 
coughing, which permits a pupil to make a noise 
and to plead that it " could not help it," at a 
time when noise has been forbidden, leads us to 
suspect that there is a motive behind it. There 
are strong grounds for the suspicion, but we 
must not go farther and assert that the motive 
is a conscious one. Because there appears to be 
a motive, we must not necessarily believe that 
there is deliberate intention. The cough enables 
a child to behave in a way that is contrary to 
the instruction of the moment, to express hostility 
to the teacher, to attract the attention of the 
whole class to itself, to assert itself, and some 
or all of these are things in which the child is 
deeply interested. But it is by no means con- 
sciously aware of such interests, which may yet, 
in spite of this, motivate a great many of its 
actions. If there should be a boy in the class 
who has a genuine cough, then the other children 
are likely to imitate him, and to cough also, 



170 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

because unconsciously they perceive the way in 
which the cough enables him to realise the things 
in which they are interested. In a sense, the chil- 
dren may be regarded as " wishing for a cough," 
though they would not consciously realise it or 
express the matter in such a way; and it would 
appear that this is sufficient to set in action the 
bodily mechanisms that make them cough. 

We are here brought into touch with imitation. 
According to some people, children imitate every- 
thing and everybody. If this statement were 
as true as it is sweeping, the teacher's task would 
be a great deal easier. Those who talk about 
imitation seldom take the trouble to point out 
how selective a child's imitation always is. He 
will much more readily imitate a teacher's tricks 
of manner and dress, his style of wearing his hair 
or knotting his tie, than he will imitate his way 
of approaching an arithmetical problem or plan- 
ning an essay. This is sometimes explained by 
saying that the child notices these things more, 
which is merely another way of saying that he 
is more interested in them. The child imitates 
those traits of other people or of animals which 
interest him, and his interests, as we have seen, are 
in great part prompted by his instinctive wishes. 

Thus the child is greatly interested in imitating 
the noises made by various animals, because noise 
is for him a means of expression and of assertion. 
He understands the importance of noise long 



INTEREST 171 

before he is able to appreciate the importance of 
grammatical speech. He imitates the aggressive 
behaviour of animals — the way in which a cat 
scratches or a dog frightens children — because 
aggressive behaviour is a means of assertion, a 
way to power. Sometimes other facts about the 
people in his circle are impressed upon him: it 
may be that his father's encyclopaedic knowledge 
about things in which the boy is interested sug- 
gests that he should imitate the father and store 
his own mind with facts. 

It would seem, generally speaking, that the 
problem of the strongest interests of children is 
bound up with the problem of instinctive motives. 
Of these the motive of self -display or self-assertion 
is the one with which the teacher has most to 
reckon. There are others, of course, that will 
call for attention later in this book. 

We adults do not differ a great deal from 
children as regards our instinctive tendencies, 
though we differ a great deal in the way in which 
we give expression to them. Self-assertion and 
display may be expressed by means of an undue 
fondness for showy clothing or for academic 
distinction; by the desire to do good work in 
a public capacity or merely to make a great deal 
of noise. We infer the presence of the instinct 
from the activity. But we have no first-hand 
acquaintance with an instinct. 

It would seem, and there is a great deal of 



172 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

evidence in the preceding chapters for the assump- 
tion, that we are urged towards the choice of 
certain modes of behaviour from among the pos- 
sibilities that our surroundings hold out to us. 
The choice we make is directed by our interests. 
Our interests indicate that we have realised — 
not necessarily consciously — that the modes we 
choose to adopt are selected because they appear to 
make possible the fulfilment of instinctive desires. 
It may be that all these instincts, defined in 
the way they have already been defined in an 
earlier section of this book, are in reality merely 
aspects of one great "urge" towards activity. 
It is certain that when we try to conceive " sub- 
jection/ ' we cannot but believe that it is often, 
may perhaps be always, a mode of " assertion." 
If we attempt to consider the activities in which 
an individual engages for mere pleasure, we are 
able to see that these subserve ends that are 
racial rather than individual. All human be- 
haviour may, perhaps, be regarded as an expres- 
sion of a single "urge," therefore, and conse- 
quently it is possible to introduce into psychology 
a conception analogous to that which physicists 
employ in their own science, when they regard 
all phenomena as manifestations of "energy." 
Consequently, some of the modern writers speak 
of a "libido"- — a "something" difficult to de- 
fine precisely, but which may be regarded as the 
urge that has been referred to. The sources of 



INTEREST 173 

this stream of energy lie outside consciousness, 
in the region of unconsciousness. The stream 
is directed in certain ways, and these directions 
we call interests. Some of the interests are 
conscious, in the sense that we are conscious of 
them, and some are consciously directed. But 
the direction of the stream may be largely deter- 
mined by what has already obstructed or directed 
its flow, whilst it was still traversing unconscious- 
ness. Pursuing the analogy of a stream, we may 
say that obstructions in unconsciousness may 
dam the flow, or may divert it — may even cause 
it to turn backwards. And here it may be stated, 
still in terms of this analogy, that the object of 
psychanalysis is to investigate the unconscious 
regions of the mind, and to make possible the re- 
moval of the obstructions which dam or divert 
the stream, so that the freed " libido' ' may flow 
singly, as a powerful river, from unconsciousness 
into consciousness, there to be directed into in- 
terests of value. As a result, the subject should 
be able to act according to the standards of con- 
sciousness, according to considered judgment; 
able to do the things he wills to do, with the whole 
of the energy at his disposal. He should no longer 
be diverted from his purposes by tendencies which 
he does not will, and that are alien from his con- 
scious ends. This is what some apologists for 
psychanalysis seem to mean when they say that 
the end of psychanalysis is "spiritual freedom/ ' 



CHAPTER VIII 

INTROVERSION 

A parent, speaking at an educational meet- 
ing, stated that his son, up to the age of four, 
was an active boy, keenly interested in making 
a noise and in various forms of activity. Later, 
the boy became quiet, preferring solitude to 
company, and reading to games or play. He 
preferred books dealing with adventure. 

Questioned as to whether he knew anything 
about his son's dreams, the father said that there 
was nothing interesting about them, since they 
merely repeated episodes in the books that the 
boy had been reading: hunting and fighting 
scenes. But, in reply to further questions, he 
realised for the first time what had till then 
evaded his attention, namely, that in his dreams 
the dreamer always represented himself as the 
leader of the band, and as the hero of whatever 
episode was depicted. 

There is nothing extraordinary about the boy 
in question, since others like him can be found 
in any classroom in the country. But common 

174 



INTROVERSION 175 

as he is, he nevertheless raises problems which 
we have hardly yet begun to consider. We have 
on the whole, been satisfied to fit him with a 
label, and to describe him rather than to under- 
stand him. 

Why is it that so many boys should prefer to 
live in imagination, and should shirk reality? 

In many cases a partial reason is to be dis- 
covered in a physical disability. The child who, 
on account of short sight or deafness, is out- 
matched by his schoolfellows, finds that his 
wishes to do well and to excel others in work 
and in games are thwarted and frustrated. The 
possibility of realising these wishes in a real 
world does not exist for him. But it is never- 
theless possible for him to realise them all in a 
world of the imagination, where he is able to 
create all the circumstances that he needs for 
success. In the worlds of dreams and of day- 
dreams his physical disabilities do not exist. 
There the blind see, the deaf hear, and the weak 
become strong. The people he imagines are 
different from the people of the real world; not 
pushing by him and outdoing him, but permit- 
ting him to overcome them, and even applauding 
his success in doing so. So pleasant is this world 
of make-believe, that the teacher has, as a rule, 
to discover for himself which children are unable 
to see the blackboard or map, or to hear the 
lesson, since these have often learned to realise 



176 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

for themselves so much pleasure in their Active 
world that they have no wish to take up the 
tasks that await them in the real one. 

We are able to deduce from the conduct of the 
child an attitude towards the real world. The 
attitude implies a shrinking and a fear. There 
is a sense of a deficiency, which reality tests and 
makes obvious. Reality brings into conscious- 
ness what the subject is trying to forget, that for 
which his daydreams and his dreams are com- 
pensations, which make forgetfulness of the real 
trouble possible. 

We cannot avoid the conclusion that the de- 
fective child has made an estimate of himself. 
("Defective" is here used in a wide, rather than 
in a technically narrow sense.) The estimate 
can hardly be regarded as a conscious one, and 
is certainly not the weighed and calculated just 
estimate that the adult thinks he is capable of 
making about himself. It has apparently been 
arrived at as a result of a comparison with other 
people, adults and children, and as a result of the 
testing of himself against his environment. It 
must be supposed that such an estimate has been 
arrived at by the time that the child is three years 
old, since we can often notice the deliberate 
turning away from real activity in children of this 
age. 

But if the defective child must be imagined 
as making an estimate of himself, there is no 



INTROVERSION 177 

reason why we should believe that the normal 
child does not make a similar estimate. He, 
too, comes into contact with other people and 
tests himself against his environment. But he 
meets with a measure of success which is suf- 
ficiently gratifying to encourage him to continue. 

It is different with the defective child. He 
meets with ill success. He may attribute his 
failure to something in himself, as not making 
sufficient effort, or to the nature of the environ- 
ment, which is conceived as malicious or cruel. 
In the latter case, he is merely doing to the uni- 
verse in general what the small child does to the 
fire that has burned him when he says, "Naughty 
fire!" 

In the present chapter we are concerned with 
the child who turns away from the environment. 
There is another possible reaction, that will be 
considered in a later chapter. But the child 
who turns away may do so either because he 
considers that he is too weak to attack it suc- 
cessfully, or because he regards it as too menac- 
ing. These two reasons may seem to be the 
same thing in reality, as indeed they are, but 
the distinction between them is a distinction in 
the attitude of the subject towards them, and as 
such is important. 

Now it is generally found, in the course of an 
analysis of a child or an adult of this type, that 
some episodes or series of episodes in early in- 

12 



178 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

fancy, frequently before the third year of life, 
has fixed the attitude of the patient towards his 
environment in such a way that ever after, 
throughout adult life, this attitude towards the 
real world persists. Reverting to the termi- 
nology of the last chapter, we may say that the 
episodes have acted in much the same way as a 
mound would act if placed in the bed of a river, 
diverting its course so long as the mound re- 
mained. 

The following dreams will serve to illustrate 
the case in point. They are dreams of a girl 
of twelve years, rather small for her age, and 
working in a junior form in a secondary school. 

Case XVI. Saturday night. I was going up 
the High Street with mother, and we went up a 
passage and arrived at a gate, where a lady, who 
was standing at the gate, asked us where we were 
going. We said, "To a house.' ' She opened 
the gate for us. We arrived at F.'s house. 

There we saw L. (the sister of F.) sitting on 
the table. When she saw us she said, "Bless 
you. I'm going to business soon." 

When mother and I went we had to crawl 
under the door. 

Thursday night. F. gave me a conduct mark 
for calling her an old bean. I would not take 
the point. The form master tried to persuade 



INTROVERSION 179 

me to take the point, and offered me half-a-crown 
to do so, but I would not. 

A certain amount of school history will have 
to be added to the associations of the dreamer 
in order to make the significance of the dreams 
clear. On the Friday, that is, the day preced- 
ing that on which the first dream was dreamed, 
F. ; had been elected form captain. The subject, 
in talking about her dream, says that L. (whom 
she knows only slightly) treated her as if she 
(the dreamer) were F. But F. is the form 
captain. Therefore the dreamer is in the dream 
treated as if she were the captain. As she talks 
about the dream to the person who is investi- 
gating it, she becomes aware that a wish is ex- 
pressed here, and says, "I wished very much when 
the election was taking place that they would 
make me captain." The child is, however, quite 
unfitted for any such position, and is one of the 
last persons that the form would be likely to 
choose to lead them. Consequently, since her 
wish is incapable of fulfilment in the real world, 
its gratification is discovered in the world of 
dreams. Possibly, too, in the world of daydreams. 

The first dream, occurred, as will be seen, on 
the Saturday. On the following Tuesday the 
initiation of the form captains took place. This 
is a public ceremony, which is held in the school 
hall. The dreamer sat, with the members of her 



180 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

form, in front, following every detail of the cere- 
mony intently. She had a writing-pad, and was 
observed to write down the names of all the 
form captains as these were read out by the 
teachers. The list was quite useless when com- 
pleted, for nothing in her school life will bring 
this girl into contact with captains other than 
those of her own form. But we are able to infer, 
on the part of this child who wishes to be a cap- 
tain and cannot be one, an intense interest in 
captains. 

The name has an immense significance for 
primitive folk, who remain at a childish level of 
culture. There are savages who take the greatest 
pains to conceal their names from their fellows, 
being indeed known only to these by nickname, 
since they believe that the man who knows their 
names wields an extraordinary power over them. 
In some forms of primitive magic the name of 
the person who is to be injured is used in the 
ceremony, apparently with the idea that the 
name is really a part of the individual. Some 
such idea may lie behind the concealment of the 
name of the god in certain religions. We are 
tempted to believe that young children attach 
the importance to names that they do because 
they are " reasoning' ' in a similar fashion. We 
have grown accustomed to the idea that the 
child, in the course of his development, briefly 
recapitulates the modes of life of his ancestors. 



INTROVERSION 181 

There is a great deal of evidence which goes to 
suggest that he also recapitulates the modes of 
thought of primitive men as he passes from the 
early stages of consciousness to adult thought. 

At the stage when boys wish to be engine- 
drivers, which we have considered to be a stage 
of expression of the wish to dominate, many of 
them keep note-books, in which they enter the 
distinctive numbers of the engines that pass the 
point of observation. Any one who lives near a 
railway bridge in a provincial town may often 
see numbers of boys so engaged. There is keen 
competition among the boys, who compare their 
lists with each other. The boy who has re- 
corded a number that no one else has been able 
to get, or who has a longer list than anybody 
else, is very proud and is greatly envied. 

Here we are able to see that the recording 
of the number of the engine is a fantastic realisa- 
tion of the wish to drive it. The boy controls 
the number of the engine, which is a substitute 
for the engine itself. Such an idea is strictly 
equivalent to the savage idea about the signifi- 
cance of names. So that we are able to see in the 
apparently purposeless activity of the child in 
the school hall an attempt to control all the 
captains in the school. She wishes to be captain, 
but cannot be, and therefore obtains gratifica- 
tion by making herself in fantasy a super-captain 
— a captain of captains. 



182 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Such a conclusion might appear at first to be 
too bizarre for serious consideration. Experience 
has proved, however, that we have no right to 
reject a theory because it seems extraordinary, 
provided it fits all the facts. Is it possible to 
find confirmation of what has been suggested? 

We find such confirmation in the dream of 
the Thursday night. She has been disrespectful 
to the form captain, calling her an ''old bean." 
She has refused to take the punishment awarded 
her. The form master takes a hand, but his 
persuasions are resisted. The dream, therefore, 
in expressing hostility and superiority to the 
form captain, whose authority is set aside and 
who is treated with insolent familiarity, repeats 
the motive that has been assigned to the writing 
of the captains' names. 

There is still more than this in the dream. 
A term or two ago, the form master promised 
the girl who is now form captain that he would 
give her half-a-crown if she should succeed in 
keeping clear of adverse points for the coming 
half-term. The offer was made for special reasons, 
and was made to no other pupil. Hence it is 
clear that, in dreaming that half-a-crown has 
been offered to her by the form master, the 
dreamer is expressing the wish that she might 
be the girl who has become captain. She is 
identifying herself with her, and expressing the 
wish that she herself were the form captain. 



INTROVERSION 183 

The dream therefore expresses two wishes: 
the wish to be captain and the wish to act in a 
successfully hostile manner towards the girl who 
is captain, i. e. to be superior to the captain. 

What is, however, of great significance in the 
dream, as revealing the girl's attitude towards 
reality, is the opening sentence of her narrative 
of the first dream. She is taken to the house 
by her mother, and by a "lady": she does not 
arrive there by her own efforts. Again, in ex- 
pressing her wish, she says, "I wished . . . that 
they would make me captain." There is not a 
question about her fitness for the position, no 
realisation that the girl who was chosen was 
much better fitted for the position than herself. 
She looks to other people to do things for 
her. In particular, in the dream she expresses 
dependence on her mother. 

In the case of this girl it is fairly easy to trace 
some of the episodes that have led to this atti- 
tude. She was, as a child, very small, and was 
terrorised by a brother a few years older, who 
used to twist her arm and seize her by the throat. 
On a number of occasions she has been rescued 
by her father, and the brother has been reproved, 
and sometimes punished. 

She dreams very often that she is struggling 
in the sea and that the water is choking her. A 
ship passes by, and a man from it rescues her. 
The "free associations" with water lead directly 



184 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to the idea of suffocation and to recollections of 
her brother's attacks upon her. " Rescue' ' leads 
to recollections of the way in which her father 
has interfered on her behalf. 

She has wished very much to grow bigger, 
since she has imagined that she would then be 
able to take her own part, and turn the tables 
on her brother. This has been a conscious 
desire. There is no recollection of dreams which 
have represented her as grown up. 

She has a morbid terror of suffocation. A 
number of association tests revealed that after 
she had been taken to a funeral she was for a 
long time terrified lest she should be put into 
a hole in the ground. She thought of herself as 
being suffocated by the earth that was thrown 
in upon her. She still thinks of this at times. 
She has a dread of the sea for the same reason, 
since she thinks of the possibility of suffocation 
by drowning. 

There is revealed in the whole of these terrors 
a great interest in suffocation, which is also shown 
in a number of the dreams. 

The dreams are of a character that makes them 
seem at first sight exceptions to the theory that 
has been adopted in the earlier chapters of this 
book, viz., that dreams are fulfilments of wishes. 
Is it likely that there can exist a wish to be 
suffocated? 

It is not, however, in the actual suffocation 



y 



INTROVERSION 185 



that we are able to see the wish-fulfilment, but 
in the rescue that follows. The complete wish 
is rather the wish for circumstances to arise that 
will lead to the assistance of the dreamer by people 
who are able to master those who oppose her. 
Her early environment has fixed the idea of 
suffocation as furnishing an occasion for the 
interference of older people, and the rescue of 
herself. 

The conduct of this girl in school offered 
further evidence of this attitude. She is a ' ' good ' ' 
girl, likely to win the approval of teachers, and 
so to enlist their interest. She continually ap- 
peals for assistance. She makes little effort to 
overcome difficulties, bringing sums that are 
well within her capacity to her teacher, and saying 
that she cannot see how she is to begin. 

A child of this type flatters some teachers with 
little insight a great deal. There are teachers 
whose "wish to be first" is at least as strong as 
the child's, and to them the submissive, obedient 
child, who seems to recognise without question 
the teacher's right to the premier position, makes 
a very strong appeal. It is not sufficiently real- 
ised that such "goodness" is motivated by a 
strong self-interest, and aims at making the pupil 
superior to all others, by means of the teacher's 
backing. 

Such a dependence is, however, to be deplored. 
It rests on a wrong estimate of oneself and 



186 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

of the environment. In the case under 
discussion, the estimate of the self has been 
forced on the child by means of her own small 
size, and the estimate of the environment by 
means of a bullying and teasing brother. Dis- 
cussions of the dreams and the associations to 
which they lead have revealed to the girl the 
foundations of the attitude. Her estimates, and 
the circumstances in which they were formed, 
have again been made conscious, and have been 
subjected to the scrutiny of an intelligence which 
is superior to that which made them and con- 
sidered them in the first instance. They have 
been brought under some sort of control, and 
in consequence the attitude has been considerably 
modified, with results that are apparent in her 
school work. 

A more marked case of introversion, as the 
turning away from reality to fantasy is termed, 
was to be seen in the case of a boy who suddenly 
developed a desire to go to bed at about five 
o'clock. He was permitted to do as he wished 
since he had recently recovered from a serious, 
illness, and his parents thought that possibly he 
found the day too long for his strength. 

But he had no wish to go to sleep. He liked 
to change into his sleeping-suit, and to sit up in 
bed, with his favourite books about him. These 
were tales of adventure, fairy-tales, and books 
dealing with English and with classical history. 



INTROVERSION 187 

He was never happy unless he had with him a 
long portmanteau strap. This he used to hang 
about his neck, leaving a rather longer portion 
on one side than on the other, so that he might 
wave the end with his hand while he talked. 
If visitors called, people whom he knew, he used 
to ask his father to invite them upstairs to see 
him. 

The whole tendency seems very different from 
what would be expected from a healthy boy of 
nine years of age. 

There is nothing to be gained at this point by 
citing the whole case at length. But it finally 
came to light, as a result of piecing together a 
good deal of evidence, that the bedroom had 
become for this boy a kingdom. The leather 
strap symbolised the edging of a royal robe, 
and its loose end was a sceptre. The whole de- 
sire to go to his bedroom at a time when other 
boys were at play represented a desire to withdraw 
from the actual world. 

The reason for this was that a brother had 
been born. As a consequence, the child who 
had taken the first place in the household found 
himself relegated to a very inferior place. Soon 
he became ill, thus drawing his mother's atten- 
tion, in part at least, away from the baby and 
back to himself. After he recovered, the strange 
conduct referred to manifested itself. He be- 
came deeply interested in history, or at least in 



188 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

that part of history which is concerned with 
the persons and acts of kings, in stories of the 
heroes of chivalry, and in stories of giant-killers. 

About the same time he began to be a "bad" 
boy, giving his mother a great deal of trouble. 
He began to lie to her. The lies were often 
such as would give his mother, if she believed 
them, a certain amount of worry. If she did 
not believe them, the result was the same, since 
she was distressed and angry. Other lies seemed 
to be mere bragging, dealing with outrageous 
things which he alleged that he had done, often 
at the expense of women. 

A dream which he narrated at about this time 
is typical of many. It is clear that in it he has 
adapted a scene from a book he has been reading. 
"I dreamed that I was in a tree with my gun, 
waiting for a very fierce tiger, that had killed 
many men, but that nobody had been able to 
kill. Instead of a tiger, there came a tigress 
with her cub — and you know a tigress is much 
more savage when she has a cub with her. But 
I shot her. I spared the cub, and it became very- 
fond of me, and followed me about everywhere 
I went, and obeyed me." 

Soon after, the boy was sent to another school, 
where home-work was set. Two days later he 
became ill, showing again all the symptoms of his 
former illness. 

The day after the illness set in, he was induced 



INTROVERSION 189 

to talk about his school. It was only after a 
time that he mentioned the home-work. When 
he did so, he exhibited intense feeling about the 
matter. 

Now it is not at first sight clear why a boy, 
who has voluntarily read the history of England, 
of Greece and of Rome from fairly advanced 
text-books, such as those of Oman and Green, 
should be greatly distressed because he has to 
work at history for half an hour or so. It be- 
comes clearer when it is realised, however, that 
the homework interferes with his freedom, with 
the little kingdom that he has set up. 

How far does the dream that has been related 
throw light on the situation? The tigress is much 
more savage when she has a cub with her. "Cub" 
recalls "baby," and "baby " brings up thoughts of 
his brother. If, then, his brother is the cub, it 
is clear that the tigress is his mother. The dream 
is thus a wish to kill the mother, and to dominate 
the brother. He kills the person who has de- 
posed him from the first place in her favour, and 
subjugates the one who has usurped that place. 

At this point we are able to understand the 
"naughtiness" and the lying that have been 
referred to. They are acts of hostility directed 
towards the mother. They have their origin 
in an attitude. 

Further, we are able to see that the illness 
is in both cases likely to produce a result that 



190 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

is in complete accord with this attitude, and so, 
in a sense, the boy gains through his illness. 
He distresses his mother, and gives her trouble 
and anxiety. He makes her restore him, in some 
measure, to the place from which she has deposed 
him. 

The interest that was formerly directed to the 
mother is withdrawn from her, and is directed 
upon himself. Through his mother he has been 
first. Now she has failed him, and he can no longer 
depend upon her. He has to make an adjustment 
and has to become first in spite of his mother. 

Consequently he falls back upon himself, and 
builds up a kingdom of fantasy, in which he 
reigns supreme. He reads of kings and heroes 
and hunters, because these people are himself. 
They are people who fight, who overcome rivals, 
who make themselves first. He is interested in 
these stories, which absorb all his attention, 
because all his interest is bound up in himself. 

The home-work is hated, because it is an 
intrusion of the real world, which threatens to 
break down the kingdom he has set up. He 
therefore falls back upon a device that has already 
proved successful, and becomes ill. 

At this point the matter was taken up. He 
was not told what was the precise meaning of 
his dreams. Nor was anything said to him 
about his rivalry with his younger brother, nor 
about the significance of his lying. But it was 



INTROVERSION 191 

pointed out to him, in the course of friendly 
conversation, that it was clear that he was pre- 
tending to be a king. He cheerfully admitted 
the meaning of the strap. Then it was pointed 
out that home-work was the very thing that met 
his need, inasmuch as it was work that was done 
away from control, and that its satisfactory 
performance was a proof of reliability, initiative 
and capacity for responsibility, which were quali- 
ties indispensable in a leader. It became pos- 
sible, also, to point out that the heroes of chivalry 
would be sorry figures in the modern world, and 
would probably soon find themselves in the 
police courts and in prison. 

The response was immediate. The day after 
the conversation he was quite well, and was able 
to go out of doors. The desire to remain alone 
in his room was replaced by the more normal 
desire to stay up as late as possible. The lying 
disappeared shortly after. 

What is to be said of an illness of this charac- 
ter? In what sense is it real? In what way is 
it different from mere malingering? It is real 
in that it presents symptoms which cannot be 
pretended. A man may complain of an ache 
that does not exist, but he can hardly pretend 
to have visible symptoms that are not actually 
present. It is not malingering, for though a man 
may read up the feelings that accompany a dis- 
ease, and pretend that they are a part of his 



192 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

actual experience, and may even simulate such 
things as shortness of breath or deafness or defec- 
tive vision, a child cannot possess the detailed 
knowledge of a disease that is necessary if one 
is to deceive a physician, even if the symptoms 
he exhibits are such as could be simulated, granted 
the knowledge. 

But there is no doubt that the disease in such 
cases enables the " wishes" of the patient to be 
gratified, though at the cost of a great deal of 
suffering and actual danger. It is of the kind 
that medical writers on psychanalysis term a 
" neurosis, " a disease that will yield to psycho- 
logical treatment. It may often simulate a dis- 
ease that will not yield to such treatment, but 
which must be dealt with in the ordinary way 
by a medical man. We seem to find here the 
" libido' ' compelling the organism to bring about 
a situation which will effect the libido's own ends, 
the gratification of instinctive wishes. That the 
illness spoken of in the case of the boy referred to 
was not real in one sense, is proved by the fact 
that so soon as it was discovered that it was 
unnecessary, inasmuch as the instinctive wishes 
could be equally gratified by means of home-work, 
the illness disappeared. 

The case is interesting and illuminating, since 
we are presented with a complex of physical 
symptoms of illness, "bad" conduct, fantasy 
and dream, each part of which is consistent with 



INTROVERSION 193 

another and with the whole. Each part is an 
expression of an attitude towards the real world. 

Let us for a moment adopt the analogy of life 
as a war. In actual warfare there is a type of 
soldier whose constant expression is, "Get on 
with it!" There is another whose ever-present 
wish is to get "out of it," which he often ex- 
presses in another form, since he is afraid that 
others will take him for a coward. We can 
conceive an ideal attitude which is neither of these 
wholly, but contains them both. The first man 
has fixed his attention on the war; the second 
upon himself. The ideal attitude is concerned 
with both — with the realisation of a correct 
relation between the two. The first man cannot 
endure inactivity, preferring rash attacks. He is 
impatient of plans and strategy, and has little 
use for organisation. The second man plans and 
thinks. He dislikes activity and fears it, pre- 
ferring to excuse delay on the ground that he is 
making preparations, is "thinking the thing 
out." The man with the ideal attitude combines 
attack with organisation, adjusting the one to the 
other. 

It must not be imagined that the introvert is 
incapable of bravery. The war has proved that 
he often possesses courage in a very high degree. 
But his attitude is a handicap on such occasions. 
In general he fears reality, he has to "screw his 
courage up" and take thought and plan. He 
13 



194 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

"dies many times' ' before the end comes. He 
seeks by taking thought to add cubits to his 
stature, and does so, but it is in fantasy only, 
and not in reality. 

Introversion presents itself to us in the class- 
room in many forms. The shy boy, the dreamer, 
the imaginative child, the "bookish" boy, the 
boy who does not care for games, are amongst 
the commoner types of introvert. The child 
who has been provided with glasses, that are 
often going astray or are being broken unac- 
countably, is another type. The children who 
depend upon their teachers too much, who seek 
to win goodwill by submission, by abnormally 
good or hard work, or by offerings of flowers — 
these again are introverts. 

The examination dream reveals again the 
introvert. One of the commonest is that of being 
chased and of escaping. The pursuer is generally 
a fearsome monster or a savage man. This is 
how the unconscious mind of the introvert con- 
ceives the test of the real world, the situations 
which conflict with the idea of the self. Reality 
is savage or fearsome. It is something from 
which the dreamer must escape, as he longs to 
escape from reality in all its aspects, into the 
security of the daydream. 



CHAPTER IX 

EXTRAVERSION 

We have already seen that all behaviour in- 
volves both the organism and the environment. 
Every action changes, not only the creature 
which acts, but also the thing which is acted upon. 
The home, the school, the family, the city, are 
all changed as a result of the things we do as mem- 
bers of them, but we ourselves are also changed 
by the things which they permit us to do, and by 
the restraints from activity which they impose 
upon us. 

All successful action involves this double refer- 
ence to ourselves and to our environment. In 
considering what is to be done, the question of 
who is to do it must not be ignored. In con- 
sidering who is to do a thing, there must also 
be taken into account precisely what is to be 
done. 

The man who, finding himself bored, begins to 
say, " Let's do something/ ' is evidently con- 
cerning himself with one factor only, though 

195 



196 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

practical considerations may compel him later 
to take into account the other also. 

If we take the view that our activities are all 
possessed of an instinctive origin, there is always 
the danger that we may overlook the fact that 
mere action is not a sufficiently adequate ex- 
pression of the instincts of the man of our civilisa- 
tion. To return again to the instinct of self- 
assertion, we may say that a proper expression of 
this instinct must be in accordance with the 
self which is to be asserted and the environment 
in which the assertion is to be made. An Aus- 
tralian savage may assert himself very satisfac- 
torily by decorating his body with coloured 
lines, or by cutting himself until blood flows 
copiously. In our own society we demand some- 
thing different. But the desire that is expressed 
by the savage is with us still, as strongly as in 
him. Unless we can find for it some means of 
expression that is in conformity with the society 
in which we live, the desire is repressed, "bottled 
up," so to speak. It longs for the expression that 
it cannot find. 

In the introvert, whom we were considering 
in the previous chapter, the repressed desire is 
expressed in daydreams. The introvert retires 
in some measure from a society which does not 
grant him the opportunities he needs, and con- 
templates with satisfaction imaginary pictures 
of himself doing all the things that he wishes to 



EXTRAVERSION 197 

do, and by means of which he may express the 
instinctive desire. The extravert, on the other 
hand, acts. 

We are all familiar with the man who is always 
talking, and with the person who is always rush- 
ing about, whose hands are full of so many affairs. 
There is, as a rule, no justification for the amount 
of talking that is done, since the matter of it is 
unimportant and uninteresting. We say of such a 
man that "he likes to hear himself talk." Much 
the same thing is true of the "busy" type of man, 
since his hustling is seldom justified by its ends 
or its results. The things about which he is 
troubled are often mere trifles, and though he 
justifies, or rather excuses himself, by the remark, 
"Somebody has to do the work," everybody but 
himself realises that the things he does need not 
be done at all. 

Generally, the people about such a man are 
agreed that his talkativeness and his activity are 
weaknesses, which are, on the whole, tolerantly 
regarded, though they are often found somewhat 
annoying. 

The extravert is not less in evidence in the 
classroom than in the world of grown-up men. 
He is the child who fidgets, who makes a great 
deal of noise, talks a great deal, and is often in 
"mischief." He is a very distinct type from the 
boy who prefers to sit quietly, absorbed in his own 
thoughts, oblivious of what is going on about him. 



198 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

In the one type the "libido" is directed out- 
wards, in the other inwards. The first boy- 
attends to a world of real things and real oppor- 
tunities, the second to a world that exists only 
in the imagination. 

No teacher can give a lesson which he does 
not feel is partly wasted. The lesson referred to 
is, of course, the ordinary type of lesson, given 
in accordance with the requirements of a curri- 
culum. There is always some inattention. Some 
pupils miss one part, some another, the total 
result being that the whole lesson has to be given 
again, sometimes many times over, so that the 
whole class may become acquainted with the 
whole of the subject-matter. Whilst the lesson 
is proceeding, the introverts are lapsing into 
daydreams, and the extraverts are fidgeting, 
with their whole attention concentrated upon 
bodily movements of themselves or their fellows, 
upon pieces of paper that they are manipulating. 
In the type of lesson that we are considering, 
the one person who is displaying himself to 
advantage, who is active, is the teacher. 

It may be urged that an extreme case has been 
taken. So much may be granted, but at the 
same time it cannot be denied that this state of 
things is true in greater or less degree in the ma- 
jority of lessons in arithmetic, geography, and 
history, and in some other subjects as well. In 
present conditions, which are the result of a great 



EXTRAVERSION 199 

many factors, it is difficult to see how the matter 
can very well be otherwise. 

It is possible to realise that both the introvert 
and the extravert are short-sighted. The one 
flies to immediate and obvious action, the other 
takes refuge from an immediate difficulty in day- 
dreams. Neither look very far. The introvert 
should understand that, if he will only face the 
difficulties, they will disappear, and the over- 
coming of them will give him greater satisfaction 
than he can possibly gain from a mere fantasy. 
The extravert should understand that a mastery 
of the lesson in hand will in time lead him to 
activities that will gratify him much more than 
will pinching his neighbour. The teacher's con- 
cern is, however, much more immediately con- 
nected with what is, rather than what should 
be, particularly when there seems no possibility 
of realising the latter. 

It is really a great deal to expect of young 
boys and girls that they should understand that 
the subjects taught in school will enable them 
to achieve a great deal in the world. They have 
only the word of teachers and parents for .it, 
after all. They frequently discover that their 
parents are unable to assist them at all with the 
school home-work, and manage to make what 
the child regards as a success in life without 
the assistance of the school subjects. The child 
does not see the likelihood of the application of 



200 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the knowledge he is acquiring to the career he 
has mapped out for himself. He does not realise 
that the teacher makes any use of his knowledge 
except to teach it to other people. So that the 
school work goes on, not in the direction of the 
pupil's interests, conscious or unconscious, but 
more often is directly opposed to them. 

It is possible to trace the origin of the extra- 
vert's attitude to the early years of life, when 
the child lives in an environment where he feels 
powerless and where he is surrounded by big 
people, whose speech and actions impress him. 
He feels inferiority. But whereas the introvert 
compensates himself for this deficiency by con- 
juring up imaginary scenes of display, the extra- 
vert chooses rather to make great efforts. The 
one relies on a form of thought, the other upon 
exaggerated action. 

For a complete explanation we must, however, 
seek in the early years of life — most probably 
in the first three years — for an episode that 
has fixed the child's attention, so that for the 
remainder of his life he unconsciously lives in 
the memory of that episode. The activity of the 
extravert is to be regarded as morbid, and the 
attitude of the common man towards it, in con- 
sidering it as a weakness, is justified. The ex- 
travert resembles the prisoner who hammers 
madly at the prison door, whilst the introvert 
sits on the ground and tries to forget that the 



EXTRAVERSION 201 

prison exists, or plans wild schemes of escape that 
he makes no attempt to put into practice. There 
is a rational course of conduct that lies between 
these extremes, a combination of plan and 
action. 

In the previous chapter some attention was 
paid to the case of a boy who had become an 
introvert as a result of his rivalry with a baby 
brother. How would the extravert have behaved 
in such circumstances? 

A girl of about three years of age used to get 
a doll when she saw her mother nursing the baby, 
imitating closely every action of her mother. 
Whenever she could manage to do so, she would 
approach the baby, and endeavour to copy the 
things that her mother was in the habit of doing. 
She would adjust the bedclothes, sing, talk to 
the baby, or endeavour to lift him. Her efforts 
were not appreciated, since the baby was seldom 
left unless he were asleep, so that his sister's 
efforts merely waked him. The child was often 
scolded, sometimes asked why she persisted in 
doing the things she had been told not to do. 
The only answer she could give was that she 
41 wanted to." 

Here is a case of " getting equal" with the 
mother, for this is precisely what all the imita- 
tion amounts to. It was accompanied at the 
same time by a good deal of 44 naughty" conduct. 

In the other case that was quoted it was seen 



202 PSYCH ANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

that the dreams expressed hostility to the mother 
rather than to the rival in the mother's affections. 
One dream, in particular, was interpreted as 
showing an unconscious wish to kill the mother 
and to dominate the baby. In the case we are 
considering at the moment we have exactly the 
same things, expressed through conduct instead 
of by means of dreams and fantasies. The two 
cases afford an opportunity of contrasting the 
introvert and extravert reactions to an identical 
situation. Both children aim at taking the place 
of the mother with the rival, of dispossessing 
the mother as a punishment for her preference 
of the rival: both aim at a subordination of the 
rival to themselves. 

Sometimes the rivalry is differently expressed. 
Occasionally one reads in the newspapers of 
children who have murdered a younger brother 
or sister. 

It is only rarely that it is not easy to read 
into the actions of the "bad" boy a meaning, 
an indication of purpose. Sometimes hostility 
to parents or to teachers is shown; sometimes 
the desire to possess or to see things; sometimes 
the wish to perform great deeds. These acts are 
to be regarded as expressions of a purpose, often 
of great value, but almost invariably misdirected. 

It seems to be the function of intelligence to 
direct instinctive activities in the light of know- 
ledge of the environment. We can hardly ex- 



EXTRAVERSION 203 

pect of children that knowledge of the world that 
will enable them to direct activities to the best 
advantage. Nor can we expect them to gain that 
knowledge unless we permit them to experiment 
a great deal, and allow them opportunities for 
personal observation. We cannot, in other words, 
demand directed thought of our pupils unless 
they have been afforded means of directing their 
thought. The thinking of the introvert and 
extravert is undirected thinking, or autistic think- 
ing, as it is sometimes called: that is, thinking 
away from real things and real conditions, under 
the compulsion of unconscious wishes. Unless 
the instinctive tendencies are co-opted in the 
service of education, we shall be faced with the 
difficulties that arise, as at present, because we 
are working against, instead of with, the child's 
strongest tendencies. 

The introvert is terrified by new situations, 
and flees from them to the fantasy. He faces 
reality, then, with a preconception of what it 
should be like. Any strangeness in the situation 
makes him retreat to the familiar, as he knows it 
in the daydream. But the extravert is not de- 
terred by unfamiliarity. He does not wait to 
survey the new conditions. He attacks "like 
a bull at a gate." A rebuff makes him feel once 
more the old inferiority he felt as a child, and he 
redoubles his efforts. He relies upon experiences 
and feelings. 



204 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Introvert and extravert alike are repressing 
something. The one fears action, the other 
thought. Each has the greatest contempt for 
the other, as is shown in the relations that exist 
between the pupils of a single form. The ex- 
travert regards the introvert as a milksop, whilst 
the introvert does not lack epithets that he is 
able to apply to the other. The very antipathy 
reveals the nature of the repression that exists. 
The extravert is repressing the dreamer, the 
"milksop," in himself; the introvert his 
tendencies to " roughness, " to ''rudeness," to 
"impudence/' and to " silliness/ ' 

We have already seen that the dream is con- 
cerned with repressions, and we shall conse- 
quently be inclined to expect that in dreams we 
shall meet with some representation of the current 
situation and the repressions that are striving 
for expression in the dream. A girl of twelve 
years of age relates: "I dreamt that I was with 
my little sister. I had a roll of music in my hand. 
I put her inside the roll of music." 

The girl in question has a younger brother, 
whose arrival made her very jealous. She cannot 
remember this, but her parents recollect it very 
well. As she has grown, she has been boyish 
in her manner and in her tastes. She has been 
especially fond of climbing trees. This is not in 
imitation of her brother, who is too young for 
such an activity. She has often resented being 



EXTRAVERSION 205 

sent out in charge of her brother, since when he 
is with her she cannot climb trees, but must look 
after him. When she takes him shopping with 
her, she insists on his carrying the parcels or the 
basket. We can find here expressions of the 
tendency to place herself on a level with her rival 
by emulating a boy, and to degrade the rival by 
making him subordinate to herself. 

She has been able to understand these motives 
as a result of the discussion of some of her dreams. 
There has been a marked change in her in many 
ways in consequence. She has lost a morbid 
terror of fire that used to keep her awake at night, 
and that was connected with her hostility to her 
brother. She has realised that her attitude is 
the result of a persistence of a childish jealousy, 
unconscious in its nature, and the discussions have 
enabled her to make it conscious and to control 
it. 

The dream that has been quoted shows this 
quite well. Without analysing it at all fully, it is 
possible to regard it from the level on which the 
people in the dream are dramatisations of some 
phase of the dreamer's personality. The little 
sister represents the "baby" in her, a something 
that is present with her wherever she goes. She 
dislikes music, but works very hard at it, having 
made up her mind to master it. The little sister 
is made one with the roll. Here, then, the dream 
may be interpreted as representing her own efforts 



206 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to master the "baby" in herself by means of her 
own efforts. 

It must not be imagined that the introvert 
and the extravert are to be regarded as people 
for whom there is no hope, as people who are to 
be considered as nuisances in our classes, as people 
who are working against us, and with whom 
little can be accomplished. Their tendencies are 
evidences of the emphasis that they are at present 
laying upon aspects of a problem which they 
should consider as a whole. Their attitude in- 
dicates the nature of the appeal that should be 
made to them. 

It is a little depressing to teachers to read at 
times that many successful men of the world 
were at one time the despair of the masters in 
the schools they attended. Magistrates, in par- 
ticular, seem frequently to boast of this from 
the bench, when they have occasion to deal with 
a bad boy, with the object, apparently, of con- 
soling the people who have to deal with the boy 
in question. What has happened, of course, is 
that the former "bad boy " has been lucky enough 
to meet in life a situation which enabled him to 
give valuable expression to those tendencies which 
could find only mischievous expression in the 
school. It has been pointed out that bad boys 
often make good colonists, and it is well known 
that many men who left their country for their 
country's good played a great part in the found- 



EXTRAVERSION 207 

ing of Australia. Life provided outlets for tend- 
encies which could only, in a settled country, find 
expression in acts that were termed " crimes/ ' 

A great deal has been written about the cinema 
and its effects upon children. The full considera- 
tion of the matter demands a chapter to itself. 
But it may be said here that the cinema provides 
to the introvert material for his fantasies, though, 
it would seem, a great deal less than might be 
anticipated. A collection of daydreams made in 
some elementary and secondary schools showed 
very few evidences of the influence of the cine- 
matograph theatre. But for the extravert the 
cinema play furnishes models for conduct. The 
child who commits crimes as he has seen them 
portrayed on the film, or who expresses his 
emotions in the exaggerated manner of the 
screen actor or actress, shows by these things his 
extr aversion. 

The discrimination of these two opposed types 
of child is of more than theoretical importance. 
Each presents us with a different type of problem. 
There has been some discussion as to which is the 
more intelligent: somewhat fruitless discussion, 
since the final verdict depends so much upon 
the type which the judge represents in himself. 
Neither extraverted nor introverted behaviour 
can be regarded in itself as intelligent, but both are 
capable of being intelligently directed and made 
of value. All human action that is removed from 



208 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the commonplace, and most that is merely or- 
dinary, has a bias in one direction or the other. 
There must be schemes, there must be achieve- 
ments. The introvert thinks in terms of the one, 
the extravert in terms of the other. One is con- 
cerned with preparing for eventualities, the other 
with meeting them as they arise. In philosophy 
and science, we meet the one as the systema- 
tiser, the other as the brilliant and daring 
experimenter. 

The educational problem in the case of both 
is that of bringing directed thinking to bear on 
their tendencies. The extravert has to learn to 
think in connection with his actions, the introvert 
to direct his thought to real and useful ends. 
Neither will, however, learn merely because a 
teacher insists on delivering homilies. The in- 
trovert will fly from the boredom to his comfort- 
ing daydream, the extravert will attend to a fly 
that is walking on the wall, will fidget as his 
muscles move in attempting the activity he would 
love if he were free of the classroom. The appeal 
to the boy, if his tendencies are to be enlisted 
on the side of the teacher, has to be different in 
character from that which the homily can make. 
After all, it is very futile, when one has discov- 
ered that a lesson does not appeal to a boy, to 
attempt a further appeal by means of a further 
lesson. 

The expression has to be studied, in order that 



EXTRAVERSION 209 

one may discover what is being expressed. The 
key to the introvert's real interest is to be found 
in his daydreams, and to the extravert's in his 
actions. In these are expressed the instinctive 
tendencies that have been ignored in the methods 
of the classroom. 



54 



CHAPTER X 

IDENTIFICATION 

Reference was made in an earlier chapter to a 
boy who in his dreams became the chief of a band 
of warriors or hunters. The scene was made up 
of fragments taken from books he had been read- 
ing at the time, and differed from these mainly 
in the fact that it was another person than the 
dreamer who had taken the principal rdle. The 
boy had put himself in the other person's place 
and had taken over his standing and his activities. 

Such an "identification" is not uncommon in 
dreams. A boy of nine years of age narrates the 
following: — 

Case XVII. I was in Rome, where I met the 
Emperor Augustus. He was pleased with me, 
and made me second to himself. I fought for him 
and lent him large sums of money. But he was 
ungrateful, so I fought against him and beat him. 
I took the princess from him and married her, and 
made myself the first man in the kingdom. 

210 



EXTRAVERSION 211 

Associations revealed that the dreamer had 
identified his father with the Emperor Augustus. 
The remainder of the dream shows that he has 
also identified himself with the prince who is the 
hero of the fairy tales. The dream occurred 
at a time when the boy was reading adventure, 
classical history, and fairy tales, so that his dreams 
represented him now as a hunter, now as a prince. 

The phenomenon of identification is common 
also in daydreaming. The daydreamer identifies 
himself in the fantasy with a famous boxer, a 
great cricketer, a fairy queen. A girl of eleven 
years of age, attending an elementary school in a 
dingy quarter of a great town, narrates the 
following daydream : — 

Case XVIII. I often imagine during lessons 
that I am in a beautiful wood with my friends, 
and that we are all fairies. Of course I am the 
Queen, and wear a beautiful silver dress. My 
friends wear white dresses, trimmed with pink 
rosebuds. 

Another girl in the same class relates : — 

Case XIX. I often think that I am dancing 
on a stage, and that I dance very nicely. Every- 
body is pleased with me, and there is great 
applause. 

These again are clear cases of identification, in 



212 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the one case with a fairy queen, and in the other 
with a pantomime star. 

Such identification may proceed very far, and 
may become pathological. The wards of lunatic 
asylums contain patients who have identified 
themselves with Christ, with the Virgin Mary, 
with the King or the Prince of Wales, with the 
devil, with Mary Queen of Scots, or with some 
other famous or notorious personage. But there 
are also identifications which are of social value, 
as when we put ourselves in the place of another 
and become capable of feeling sympathy. It 
would obviously be impossible to fulfil the law, 
"Do unto others as you would that they should 
do unto you," unless we were able to identify 
ourselves with the " others.' ' 

The higher types of identification differ from 
the pathological manifestations in that there is 
present a greater degree of conscious control, 
and there is also present a recognition of the fact 
that we are ourselves, though we are at the same 
time experiencing the feelings that are only 
completely justified in the case of the person 
with whom we are identifying ourselves. There 
is a real reason for his grief, an objective reason, 
and we are aware that we have no such ground for 
the feeling that we share with him. We are, as a 
rule, able to bear lightly the sorrows of others 
because we are capable of controlling in great 
measure the extent to which we bear them. 



IDENTIFICATION 213 

Between these two extremes lie the cases of 
identification that are to be met within the class- 
room. The dramatic method of teaching history- 
bases itself on the fact that children may be 
readily made to identify themselves for a time 
with the great personages of the past. Scenery, 
costume and set speeches are all means to this 
end. 

The history and the geography lesson appeal to 
the child because they afford him opportunities 
of identifying himself with great men of the past 
and with the inhabitants of other countries. The 
composition lesson, too, in so far as the composi- 
tion is free, also affords means of identification. 
Children are very interested in writing " auto- 
biographies' ' of all sorts of things. And these 
" autobiographies' ' are, in fact, what they are 
named, for whether the theme be a penny, a 
horse, a pirate, or a drop of water, it is of himself 
that the child writes. He may be to some extent 
controlled by his actual knowledge and experience 
of pennies and horses, by what he has heard of 
pirates and of drops of water, but what is con- 
trolled is the attitude which we have already seen 
is a result of his first experiences of reality. The 
more "free" the composition, the less controlled 
by what we speak of as "fact," the more clearly 
is this attitude revealed. In a world outside the 
school we should expect a more personal revela- 
tion in the work of a poet than in a text-book of 



214 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

applied mathematics. In both cases, however, 
the attitude is to be discovered. In the work of 
the child it is easier, as a rule, to find the quality 
which some people term " sincerity,' ' than in the 
work of mature people, whose training has been 
largely in methods of concealing themselves. 
What is concealed exists still, however, and not 
merely exists, but struggles to escape. 

The interest of the fairy story for the child 
lies in the fact that the fairy world is one of the 
same kind as the world he imagines for himself. 
It is a tiny world, of narrow but intense interests. 
The people who inhabit it are small, like himself, 
or immense, like the grown-up people who sur- 
round him. They are either very kind, showing 
their kindness by means of gifts, or they are hostile, 
with a disposition to frighten, to beat, to kill, 
or to imprison. It is a world of violent antitheses, 
like the child's own world, where things are black 
or white, good or bad, "nice" or "nasty," where 
fine distinctions are unknown. It is a primitive 
world, where all right is rewarded and all wrong 
is punished. It is precisely the kind of world 
that would be conceived by people of narrow and 
simple experience, living in a small and self- 
contained community like the world of the 
home. 

The child is easily able to project himself into 
such a world, and to identify himself with the 
principal characters. It is he who meets with 



IDENTIFICATION 2 1 5 

the undeserved fate of the Tin Soldier, or who 
is the Ugly Duckling. It is he whose parents 
become so changed, as they begin to impose 
discipline upon him and make him do things that 
he does not wish to do, and that the older brothers 
and sisters are excused from doing, that he is able 
to imagine that in some way the family has 
changed altogether, and that, as in the story of 
Cinderella, his parents have disappeared, and have 
been replaced by cruel step-parents, or as in the 
Babes in the Wood, a wicked uncle has taken the 
place of his father, and that he will run away. 
The cats and the birds in his real world are like 
the cats and the birds of the fairy story, since he 
is able to tell them troubles that he feels human 
beings might not understand. He wishes that 
the cats and the birds could help him, and in the 
fairy tale the wish is realised. The fairy tale 
that appeals to the child makes its appeal because 
it is all about himself. 

It is this personal factor of the fairy story that 
must be held to account for the fact that the 
child's interest in fairy stories is so great. Adults 
are often puzzled by the way the child asks for 
the same story again and again, night after night, 
without variation, or by the way in which he 
reads so many fairy tales which resemble each 
other as closely as do the works of many popular 
novelists. The child who has identified himself 
with Cinderella will read a hundred variants of 



216 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the same story with unabated interests, which 
is really no other than the interest in himself. 

But the fairy tale does not end with the de- 
scription of the world in which the child lives 
at the moment. It goes on to a development 
which is concerned with the putting right of all 
the things that are wrong, and to the inevitable 
1 ' they lived happily ever after. ' ' The Ugly Duck- 
ling grows to be more beautiful than any member 
of the brood which persecuted it. Cinderella 
gains the prince whom her sisters desired, and 
becomes exalted over the people who dominated 
her and made her life unhappy. The fairy tale 
deals then with childish wishes and their fulfilment. 
It is exactly analogous to the dream and the 
daydream. 

The childish attitude is seen persisting in the 
case of Hans Andersen, who, as Gordon Home 
says, ."remained a child all his life, and could 
write what children want to read, because he 
understood their point of view." Gordon Home 
relates, too, how at school the young Hans made 
up a story about himself, "to the effect that he 
was of noble birth, but when he was an infant 
fairies had come and changed him in his cradle.* ' 
In the majority of the fairy tales of Andersen it 
is possible to see, in the light of his biography, that 
they were about himself and his conception of 
himself in relation to the life of his time. What 
is the story of the "Fir Tree," for example, but 



IDENTIFICATION 217 

a compensation for his ill-success in obtaining 
the fame for which he was striving? Hans Ander- 
sen could express himself in fairy tales, because 
he never grew up, remaining in all essential mat- 
ters a child, and retaining a child's outlook on 
life. "Lewis Carroll," who wrote some of the 
most successful fairy stories of the last generation, 
was different from Andersen, in that he was able 
to retain the child's outlook and at the same time 
to develop fully in other directions. He presents 
us with a case of "dual personality/ ' one person- 
ality being represented in his mathematical text- 
books, and the other in Alice in Wonderland. 

It is not a very great remove from the world 
of the fairy tales to that of the world of melo- 
drama, or that which is portrayed in the novels 
of such a writer as the late Charles Garvice. We 
are again in a world of violent antitheses, of blonde 
heroines and brunette villains. Blackmailers, 
moneylenders, seducers, gamblers, take the place 
of witches and giants; rich men, sailors, clergy- 
men, " gentlemen/ ' take the place of fairy princes. 
But the world is obviously, like those of the child's 
experience and of the fairy tale, one of kind people 
and of nasty people, and the whole construc- 
tion is viewed in its relation to the happiness 
of a hero or a heroine. There is more control 
exercised by reality, at least so far as outward 
appearance goes, in a Garvice novel than in a fairy 
tale, but the differences are merely superficial. 



218 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

Childish conception, fairy tale, melodrama, and 
popular novel may be regarded as having been 
produced, so to speak, with the same rubber stamp, 
and of having been touched up a little later in 
accordance with the demands of experience. 

It is impossible to develop at full length this 
conception, which is of the greatest importance 
to those who are concerned with the question of 
popular appeal. Children are absorbed in fairy 
tales as they are not absorbed in their lessons, 
and men and women live in novels and in plays 
with an intensity greater than that in which they 
live in their work. We seem forced to conclude 
that what interests us most is ourselves, and that 
the extent of our interest in something else de- 
pends upon the extent to which we are able to 
identify ourselves with it. 

Any one who has been present at a performance 
of a melodrama, or has been among the spectators 
at a great football match, will have realised the 
extent to which members of the audience are 
able to identify themselves with the players on 
the stage or the field. The more extraverted 
types express this identification by means of 
gestures and actions. For the introverted types, 
the daydream is being realised for them: they 
have not even the compulsion to make it up. 

We meet again with the question of the cine- 
matograph theatre at this point. The cinema 
theatre is a place of ready-made daydreams. 



IDENTIFICATION 219 

Darkness and music make more possible than 
usual the identifications that are made between 
the spectators and the characters on the screen. 
Darkness cuts men off from the sight of reality, 
the music obscures its sound. Nothing comes 
between the spectator and his illusions. 

The cinematograph play resembles the day- 
dream or the dream even more than does the 
popular novel, inasmuch as the presentation is 
achieved entirely by means of pictures. Actions 
and emotions have to be rendered broadly, by 
means and gestures and facial expression, and very 
fine shades and distinctions have to be ignored or 
exaggerated. The world of the screen is more 
naive and child-like than the real world, and 
approaches more nearly than the latter the world 
of the child. 

Charlie Chaplin presents his audiences with a 
kind of apotheosis of naughtiness. He plays 
tricks at table with the food, he plays practical 
jokes upon people who are very important in 
their way and who are humiliated in consequence, 
he meets with rebuffs which have no more than 
an immediate effect and which generally enable 
him to turn the tables on the people who have 
punished him. His plays represent, as a rule, a 
long struggle with people who are bigger than 
himself, people who are rich or pompous, or 
people in authority. There is generally some- 
body in the play, a woman, who prefers him, 



220 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

for alt his ludicrous appearance, to the people 
with whom he is in conflict. We meet here, 
then, the childish situation, the drama of the 
child in conflict with the people about him, the 
child who wishes to be naughty and cannot, since 
he is restrained. So Chaplin represents for his 
audience themselves, able to indulge to the full 
their repressed wishes, past and present, and 
deriving from his performance the same pleasure 
that they would gain from a real burst of naughti- 
ness. The laughter means that repressed emotion 
is being liberated, as Chaplin supplies the actions 
and the auditors the feeling. The whole play is, 
once more, the daydream. 

It is unnecessary to enlarge on this point. The 
appeal of Chaplin to children is well known, 
sometimes too well known, to teachers. When 
peace was celebrated in London in 19 19, there 
were a fair number of boys in the crowd, dressed 
in the costume that Chaplin has made familiar 
to playgoers. All were obviously children from 
poor districts. Whether it is good or otherwise 
for them to be interested in Chaplin, is a question 
about which opinions may differ. The point is 
that he represents something with which they 
identify themselves. 

It is not only to children that Charlie Chaplin 
appeals, but to large numbers of men and women. 
It is not at first sight clear why this should be so. 
Many of us who have no desires of which we are 



IDENTIFICATION 221 

aware connected with throwing cream buns into 
people's faces, or with squirting soda-water over 
men who sit near us in restaurants, admit a good 
deal of interest in a good Chaplin film. But we 
have in the past entertained wishes of the sort 
that find expression in these crude practical 
jokes. We have not been allowed to indulge 
them, and any attempts at behaviour of the kind 
have been met with repression, with warnings 
and punishment. As a result this body of desire 
has never proceeded beyond the point at which 
it was repressed by our parents and other people 
in authority over us. Later, we have continued 
with the work of repression ourselves, and so effec- 
tively that we have not permitted ourselves to think 
of such conduct. As a result, the part of us that 
originated these wishes has been kept in a kind of 
strait-jacket that has not permitted us to de- 
velop evenly, the rest of us having grown up, and 
this one part having remained, and still remaining, 
at about three years of age. All expression of this 
side of ourselves has been forbidden, by parents, 
teachers, social and ethical codes, except the 
single expression of it which allows us to laugh at 
a stage representation of it. We could not, per- 
haps, laugh at the sight of a stout gentleman 
slipping on a banana skin, since the thought of 
his suffering would act as a check, but we can allow 
ourselves to laugh heartily when Chaplin hits his 
partner with a mallet. 



222 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

The films that have been referred to deal with 
the infantile theme of turning the tables on people 
in authority. It is a similar theme to that of 
turning the tables on big people, since the people 
in authority in the child's world are people who 
are bigger than himself. This is the theme of 
such stories as represent Jack killing the giants, 
or Hop o* my Thumb proving himself superior 
to his bigger brothers, or the little tailor winning 
the princess through difficulties that had proved 
too great for people who would be regarded as his 
superiors. The unconscious interest in such 
themes may partly motivate the interest in the 
smaller of two unevenly matched contestants, 
which is so often vaguely ascribed to a " sporting 
instinct/' 

It would be possible to fill a great many pages 
with a discussion of the stories that are popular 
as novels, magazine stories, or as film plays. It 
will be sufficient to say, however, that the ma- 
jority have a u happy ending' ' — many editors 
insist upon this which recalls the "they lived 
happily ever after" of the fairy story, and which 
means that the end of the story is concerned with 
the triumph of a person who has been despised, 
misunderstood, or tyrannised over by a number 
of people who had it in their power to act differ- 
ently. It is the theme of the child and his 
parents, the latter misunderstanding, despising 
and tyrannising over him, though they might be 



IDENTIFICATION 223 

"kind." It is through the evidence of persistent 
infantile wishes, through dreams and daydreams, 
that we become aware of the way in which the 
child fails to understand the early imposition of 
discipline. The fire is, for instance, a pleasant 
and beautiful thing, that an unkind mother 
refuses to allow him to touch. The "discipline 
of natural consequences" would, if carried to 
an extreme, permit him to burn himself to the 
point of injury. But there is a middle course, 
which is to let the child burn himself sufficiently 
to realise that the fire is not all that it seems. 
He would meet then with the discipline of the 
real world, learning to respect the fire, rather 
than to detest his mother. Nor would he learn 
one of the lessons that children do learn as a 
result of repression, which is that if one wants to 
do the things one wishes, one must be very care- 
ful to do them behind the backs of the older people. 
Now it is very possible that the reading of fairy 
tales achieves a very valuable purpose. It en- 
ables a mass of wishes and misunderstandings 
to be brought to the surface and to be discussed. 
The attitudes that we have already spoken of as 
directed against the teacher are fully formed long 
before the child comes to school. The teacher 
has nothing to do with their formation, and can 
have very little to do with their transformation 
since they are so thoroughly hidden in the uncon- 
scious mind. The teacher, too, can have very 



224 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

little to do with the child's daydreams, since they 
are not part of the school activities, and since they 
do not come to his knowledge as a rule. But the 
fairy story is a daydream, a collective daydream 
which affords opportunities for discussion. There 
are possibilities of leading the infantile motive 
towards higher expressions. There is always 
the possibility of a Cinderella who achieves her 
ends without the help of a fairy godmother, and 
who attains happiness without the assistance of 
a fairy prince. 

We see the process of "identification" at work 
wherever people assemble to witness some spec- 
tacle. The interest in a football player, in a 
victorious general, in a great political speaker, or 
in a popular dancer, is our interest in ourselves, 
overlaid with a sporting, patriotic, political, or 
aesthetic conscious interest. We identify our- 
selves with these people, and realise through 
them the common daydream of grandeur and 
display. We cease for a few moments to see our- 
selves as we really are, through stress of circum- 
stance, and see ourselves as our daydreams 
picture us. Or we identify ourselves with people 
who are suffering, and in them pity ourselves 
as we once pitied ourselves when the people of 
our childish world made us suffer — for our good 
as they thought ; for their pleasure, as we imagined. 
Teachers are familiar enough with the child who 
is interested in creatures who suffer, and who 



IDENTIFICATION 225 

says, "Poor thing!" or weeps, but who makes no 
effort to relieve the suffering. 

If, however, "identification" underlies all our 
intense interests, it would appear that all our 
actions are egoistic in character. This, appar- 
ently, must be admitted. But there is yet a 
great difference between the actions of the very 
young child and those of a good type of adult. 
The child's actions are referred to himself only, 
and are spoken of as "ego-centred," whilst those 
of the adult have a wider reference. While the 
instinctive motive is egoistic in character, it is 
not permitted to find expression in acts that are 
anti-social. Unless an outlet that is social, or at 
least not anti-social in character, can be discov- 
ered, the instinctive impulse has to be repressed. 
The nature of the actions that cannot be permitted 
varies with time and place, with the "culture" of 
the group, so that it is generally possible to find 
some tribe or nation with whom what we regard 
as a "crime" is a worthy, or at least a permitted 
act. 

Such considerations make clear that the con- 
ception of education will be wider in the schools 
of the future than it is in the majority of those of 
the present day. They make clear, too, some of 
the reasons why certain recent experiments in 
education have been such brilliant successes. 

The principal task of education does not consist 
in imparting information, or in preparing a boy 
15 



226 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

to be a good workman or a successful wage-earner. 
'These things are important, but only as a part 
of a greater whole. The real task is the guidance 
of the pupils' egoistic motives to social expres- 
sion. We cannot speak of "creating" interests, 
but merely of directing them. The more fully 
and completely we are able to direct the interest 
of the pupils to valuable ends, the less we shall 
have to complain of "lack of self-control/ ' of 
"badness" or "wickedness," which are all terms 
we apply to interest that runs to waste through 
useless and anti-social channels, because we have 
not the skill to direct it properly. 

The interest that we have to direct is the same 
interest that is shown in the child's dreams and 
daydreams when it is repressed, and in spontane- 
ous play when it is free. Education is concerned 
with the direction of this interest which wells up 
in play, into conduct which has a wider reference 
than the mere desire to give pleasure to himself. 
It can be directed through team-play, through 
co-operative activities, into valuable channels of 
expression. It was a wonderful piece of true 
psychological insight that led Mr. Caldwell Cook, 
one of the pioneers of the method in this country, 
to entitle the book that he has written upon his 
own work, The Play Way. 



CHAPTER XI 

SLIPS, ACCIDENTS AND OMISSIONS 

Freud, in his book entitled Psychopathology of 
Everyday Life, has pointed out that the many- 
slips of the tongue and pen that occur in every- 
day life are not to be regarded as accidental, but 
as having a cause. Since we are unaware of the 
happenings, and cannot assign any reason for 
them, this cause, if it exists at all in ourselves, 
must be in our unconscious minds. We are thus 
able to relate the occurrences to dreams and day- 
dreams, and to regard them as activities which 
express unconscious wishes that have been able 
to evade the censorship of the conscious mind. 

A few days ago, a girl in one of the senior forms 
of a secondary school handed in a school exercise 
in geometry. The word " locus' ' occurred several 
times in it, and was on each occasion spelt ' 'locust.' * 
The girl spells well, and does all her work very 
creditably, so that the error was surprising. If 
the question had been put, "Why have you spelt 
locus in this fashion?" the reply would probably 
have been, "I don't know. I suppose that I was 

227 



228 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

thinking of something else." But instead the 
question was asked, "Are you very fond of in- 
sects ?" The girl suspected no reference to her 
geometry exercise, and replied that she disliked in- 
sects very much. She generally got well out of 
their way. She was next asked if she liked loci 
in geometry, and she said that she disliked the 
work connected with loci more than any other part 
of the school course in geometry; the other sec- 
tions she did not dislike. Here she has therefore 
equated, by means of the slip, the loci she dislikes 
and the insects she dislikes. But from the 
geometry she cannot escape, since it is part of her 
school work; from the insects she can. Hence 
she substitutes the insect for the locus, and so 
expresses her wish to escape from the work that 
is distasteful to her. 

The explanation may seem very far-fetched, and 
would be, if we had but this single example upon 
which to base our conclusions. But when we 
find that error after error, in place of being a 
mere purposeless and " chance' ' accident, reveals 
a motive of the kind that we have already dis- 
covered in dreams and daydreams, we are forced 
to admit that there is too much method in them 
for mere chance to explain them. And, after 
all, we explain nothing when we assign things to 
chance, but merely admit that explanation is 
beyond us. 

Forgetfulness is a common enough thing in 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 229 

schools, as elsewhere. We are apt to attribute it 
to weakness of memory, to faintness of the initial 
impression, and so on. But teachers have noticed 
before now that there is a certain method in the 
pupils' forgetting. Cricket matches and school 
parties and prize-givings are seldom forgotten: 
home-work frequently is. This is in itself suffi- 
cient to suggest that weakness of memory is not a 
complete explanation. People fall back upon the 
explanation that memories differ in character, that 
"some people remember one thing, others an- 
other.' ' This may be a fact, but it is not an 
explanation at all. It should set one collecting 
information as to the kind of things that one per- 
son forgets or remembers, and endeavouring to 
relate the phenomena to other facts that we are 
able to ascertain about the person in question. 

It would be imagined that the child's first going 
to school would be an event of the kind that 
would make a deep impression. We have the 
very novelty of the experience, and its complete 
contrast with the life at home, and we should be 
inclined to believe that the event would be remem- 
bered very clearly indeed in after years. If a 
teacher could introduce into a lesson a fact that 
was extremely novel, and that contrasted strongly 
with any other facts known to the pupil, he would 
expect that the fact would be remembered long 
after many others would be forgotten. But it is 
nevertheless a fact that a large proportion of 



230 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

children have completely forgotten their first 
experiences of school, and their teachers. It is 
sometimes necessary to ask a child, " Where did 
you first learn arithmetic ?" "At the first school 
I attended. " " And who taught you ? " ' ' I can 1 1 
remember.' ' 

In one case a man had a morbid horror of eyes 
of a particular shade of blue, especially in women. 
These eyes appeared in his dreams, and he was 
as a rule humiliated or degraded by the person 
who possessed them. He instinctively distrusted 
people in real life whose eyes were of this colour. 
He had been asked by an analyst to endeavour 
to recall some one who in early life had been asso- 
ciated with him whose eyes were like those of his 
dreams. He tried, but failed completely. Later 
with the assistance of his mother, he was able to 
get a description of the nursemaid who used to 
look after him as a small child. But her eyes 
were brown. 

Then he remembered a humiliation that he had 
undergone at the hands of the woman who kept 
the small school he had first attended. He had 
been talkative, and he had been ordered to stand 
on a stool in view of the whole school. A piece 
of red flannel, cut in the shape of an enormous 
tongue, was tied round his neck. He has forgot- 
ten the episode so far as a clear memory of it is 
concerned, but his parents have reminded him of 
it from time to time. But the appearance of the 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 231 

schoolmistress has been totally forgotten. He 
asked his mother about it, and was told that her 
eyes were of the colour that he so dreaded. So 
soon as he was made aware of the connection, the 
attitude disappeared. A night or two afterwards 
he dreamed that he met a woman whose eyes were 
of this colour, and in a law case that followed a dis- 
agreement he was the victor. Since then, during 
a period of two years, he has not dreamed of the 
eyes, though such dreams were of frequent 
occurrence previously. 

The things that are forgotten in this case are 
things connected with humiliation, which is not a 
normal theme of the daydream. But we should 
be inclined, if we argue from the usual views 
regarding memory, to believe that the incident 
in question would have made an impression that 
would not easily have been obliterated from 
consciousness. Yet it has so disappeared, whilst 
a number of events less striking in character, 
and occurring about the same time, have been 
remembered. 

Children are particularly sensitive on the subject 
of names. Young children make fun of the names 
of others, substituting ridiculous rhyming sounds 
for them, or using punning nicknames in place 
of them. Also, children tend, as we have already 
seen, like savages, to attach a greater importance 
to names, and indeed to confuse them very often 
with the personality. Thus, to substitute a 



232 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

nickname for the child's name is to change him 
for somebody else, or to alter him by force. It is 
to degrade him. Often the child gets the idea, 
particularly if there is a snobbish tone in the 
school, that his name is a common one. In one 
case a boy who attended a preparatory school 
suffered a great deal because he discovered that 
his name was the same as that of a man who kept 
a fried-fish shop near the school. As an adult 
he is possessed of the idea that his father should 
have done more for him, and should have given 
him better things than he has given him — a 
university education, for example. Really, the 
whole attitude goes back to the wish that his 
father had given him a better name. 

If we find an adult with a good memory for 
names of a certain kind, and a bad memory for 
names of another kind, we should be inclined to 
believe that names were forgotten on account of 
their difficulty, and the forgetfulness would be 
reasonable. But when we discover that a man is 
able to remember the Sinclairs, the Forbes, the 
Montagues, and the Herberts, but that he forgets 
the Jones, the Robinsons, the Whites and the 
Smiths, we see that the explanation fails totally. 
Further, when we find that the commonness of 
his name caused a great deal of pain to him in his 
schooldays, and led to some ridicule from his 
schoolfellows, we begin to realise that the "fail- 
ing" expresses a wish to be rid of a common 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 233 

name and in possession of a more aristocratic one. 
The forgetfulness is thus a getting rid of some- 
thing that has in the past caused pain and a feeling 
of inferiority. 

Forgetfulness is not found only in the child. The 
teacher finds that he is easily able to recall the 
names of some pupils, whilst he cannot remember 
those of others. The reason for this is not obvious 
at first sight. But as a* rule it will be found that 
the reason lies in the wish that the boy were not 
in the class. Sometimes it is the name of a good 
boy, whose cleverness makes him something of a 
nuisance to the teacher, since he sees through things 
in a way that spoils the lesson, and makes it fail of 
effect with the remainder of the pupils ; sometimes 
he is an unsatisfactory boy, whose removal from 
the class is to be desired. But the forgetfulness, 
the removal from the teacher's mind, is a sub- 
stitute. It is a partial ignoring of the boy, an 
expulsion of him from consciousness, since he 
cannot be expelled from the class. It occurs 
often enough that a teacher, speaking of a boy to 
a colleague, says, "Do you know, I can't remember 
his name. I ought to, for he is trouble enough. I 
have to call out his name pretty often every day." 

The pupil who does good work that is spoiled 
by blots and smudges is a familiar enough figure 
in the classroom. The blot often comes at the 
end, when a good piece of work has been com- 
pleted. How is this to be explained? Is it 



234 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

"chance"? When we have described Jones as 
careless, we have explained nothing, but have 
merely labelled that of which we complain. Be- 
sides there exists a whole page of good work to 
show that Jones, after all, is not completely care- 
less. Experience goes to show that punishment 
is rarely a remedy for this state of things. 

There is a strange contradiction, very often, 
between the dirtiness of the blot and the neatness 
of the piece of work that it spoils. The whole 
expresses the contradiction that exists in the 
child's nature. It is as if one person wrote the 
exercise, and the other threw the disfiguring stain 
upon it. What a conflict there must be! What 
enmity ! But it is merely a repetition of the con- 
flict that we have already discovered between 
the attention to the lesson and the attention to 
the daydream. There is a side of the child's 
mind that remains infantile, seeking only the 
pleasure of the moment. This side hates the 
school work. There is another, the conscious 
mind, that has come to value the school work, 
perhaps for its own sake, perhaps for the sake of 
the possibilities in the future that it opens up, 
perhaps for the sake of the approval of adults. 
The piece of work that has been spoken of reveals 
both attitudes — the one in the neat, painstaking 
effort, the other in the blot that spoils it. 

It is not suggested that a conflict is to be read 
into every blot or smudge that appears in a school 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 235 

exercise. Accidents will happen. But the fre- 
quency of the occurrence in certain cases suggests 
that we are here dealing not with an accident, 
but with a rule. 

Something of the intensity of the conflict may 
be gathered by the attempt to imagine the resolu- 
tion necessary before a good piece of work could 
be spoiled deliberately by its producer. But we 
have to conceive precisely that amount of opposi- 
tion on the part of the unconscious attitude toward 
the productions that are the result of the uncon- 
scious attitude. What is done by the one is 
hated by the other. It should be possible to 
detect the mental conflict in a number of other 
ways, all going to confirm that the spoilt work is 
an expression of a deep inner struggle, and is not 
a mere accidental happening. 

The same conflict of attitudes is revealed in a 
number of minor difficulties from which school 
children suffer. Stammering will serve as an 
instance. Stammering often occurs in cases 
where it is impossible to find any real organic 
cause of the trouble. 

Stammering is an expression of an unwillingness 
to speak. The stammerer delays speaking for a 
long time, making the person who is listening pay 
very careful attention, trying his patience, and 
causing him a great amount of trouble. The boy 
who stammers at school is often passed over in 
the course of oral exercises on account of the 



236 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

trouble he causes and the delay that results. 

In the class the stammerer is something of a 
nuisance, since there are generally a number of 
boys who imitate him. The imitation is sugges- 
tive of a good deal of interest. Imitation has 
generally the purpose in view of securing the ends 
that are secured for the person imitated through 
the exercise of the act that is imitated. The boy 
who imitates does not, however, do so consciously. 
The boy, on the other hand, who occasionally 
mocks at the stammerer and imitates him in 
derision, seldom imitates him at any time un- 
intentionally. It would seem as if the imitation 
is unconscious and involuntary in the one case, 
and deliberate and conscious in the other. It 
is the former child who becomes a stammerer; 
the latter is in no danger. 

The imitation suggests a purpose in stammering, 
as if the boy who imitates had perceived that ends 
were served by stammering, and had adopted it 
as a mode of gaining those ends for himself. But 
these ends appear to be the evasion of difficulties, 
the giving of trouble to the teacher, and the 
attraction of attention to oneself. 

Some objection may be made to the latter 
statement. Surely attention attracted by such 
means must be embarrassing. It is, but only to 
the conscious side of the individual. When we 
recollect that a man deliberately smashed the 
Portland Vase in the British Museum in order 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 237 

to attract public notice, and that men and women 
have done the most extraordinary things to get 
their names into the papers, we may hesitate. 
We are dealing in the case of the stammerer with 
unconscious, and not with conscious and intelli- 
gent valuations. The dream and the daydream 
have already revealed to us that the mind that is 
manifested in them is an infantile mind, whose 
standards are still those of a small child, and which 
differ widely from those of the conscious mind of 
the dreamer. 

We cannot punish or rebuke the stammerer for 
unwillingness to take part in the lesson. He is 
obviously trying very hard, and yet he accom- 
plishes little or nothing more than would a boy 
who definitely refused to make any attempt to 
answer the questions given by the teacher. He 
is regarded as a willing and painstaking boy, who 
cannot help himself. For his deficiency he is not 
responsible. But if we can imagine a boy who 
alternately tries to speak and to prevent himself 
from speaking, we see at once that something 
closely resembling stammering would be the re- 
sult. In other words, stammering presents us 
with a drama of willingness and unwillingness, in 
connection with speech. It is a drama of conflict. 

All this applies, of course, in cases where there 
is no structural defect that accounts for the dis- 
ability. The origin of stammering is to be looked 
for in the early years of life in an attitude towards 



238 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

the parents, whose disciplinary efforts provoked 
resistance. It is not always to be discovered here, 
however, for there are cases in which stammering 
has developed later in life, and in relation to cer- 
tain words only, or to certain sounds, such words 
and sounds being connected with an unpleasant 
experience that has been banished from conscious- 
ness. But in many cases there is no doubt that 
the stammering has developed out of the early 
resistance to the father, and expresses an unwill- 
ingness to speak, to admit things, or to confess 
things. This attitude is transferred to all people 
in authority, who make the stammerer feel his 
inferiority — that is to say, to most people, since 
his defect makes other peoole assume superiority 
to him. 

This is the sort of case that can be treated by 
psychanalytical methods. There may be other 
ways of effecting a cure, but the majority of these 
are concerned with the stammering itself, that is, 
with a mode of expression. They do not discover 
or remove the attitude which stammering expresses 
or modify the conflict of which it is the result. 
But they undoubtedly remove the stammer in a 
large number of cases. However, since the atti- 
tude and the conflicts remain, it is always possible 
that they will express themselves in another and 
perhaps even more inconvenient way, or that an 
event, such as a sudden shock, may give rise to a 
renewal of the stammering. Psychanalysis is 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 239 

radical, in that it deals with and removes the atti- 
tude which is the origin of the whole trouble. 

Blushing and shyness are common with school 
children. They are concerned with the conscious 
desire not to attract attention. Why should 
there be this intense pre-occupation with atten- 
tion, this great interest in it? The symptoms 
are such as compel the attention of others — the 
scarlet face of a single pupil, his awkward move- 
ments, the clumsiness with which he upsets piles 
of books or bottles of ink. Attention is centred 
upon him. 

Here, again, we are to look for a conflict, in the 
face of a symptom which so inevitably attracts 
attention and the conscious protestations of the 
pupil that the attention of others is the last thing 
he wishes. The symptom tells us clearly enough 
that there is a part of the pupil which desires at- 
tention above all other things. The conflict is 
therefore between the desire to attract attention 
and the desire to avoid it. Why the desire to 
avoid attention? Surely because of the feeling 
of inferiority. What then has implanted in the 
boy the sense of inferiority? 

The full story will vary with the individual, but 
we shall find in the majority of cases that there 
has been a circumstance in the early years of life 
that has impressed on the boy the fact that the 
attention of others upon himself leads to some- 
thing that is painful or humiliating. He has done 



240 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

something that has attracted the notice of others, 
and has been shamed as a result. Consequently, 
the wish to attract attention persists, as with all 
of us, but there exists also the desire not to attract 
attention. The conflict results in the blush, the 
blundering conduct, the awkwardness, the fear 
of notice. 

The wit of children is a thing that has been 
noticed a good deal, but less so than the uncon- 
scious humour. The schoolmaster is rather 
pleased than otherwise with a good howler, be- 
cause the narration of it gratifies the sense of 
superiority that he feels in regard to his pupils, 
and he is able to believe that he enjoys the howler, 
not for this reason only, but for the better one 
that it is a good specimen. The implications of 
psychanalysis are apt to prove rather like boom- 
erangs, since they can be used with equal effect 
against others than the pupil. 

Freud has framed the theory that wit is con- 
cerned, like daydreams and dreams, with repressed 
material. The teacher, if he is a decent fellow, 
does not display the superiority he feels in the 
presence of his pupils, but represses it from con- 
sciousness altogether. Occasionally a teacher is 
to be found who cannot conceal the sense of 
superiority he feels, on account of his age, experi- 
ence and greater knowledge, over his pupils, and 
who makes it very manifest to them and to other 
people; but such are fortunately the exception 



SLIPS, ACCIDENTS OMISSIONS 241 

rather than the rule. The feeling is repressed, 
but it lives on and waits an opportunity for 
expression. The " howler' ' gives the opportunity. 
The sense of superiority is gratified, but uncon- 
sciously: the teacher, if asked why he laughed, 
would point to the wit of the example as the justi- 
fication. Modern psychology would be inclined 
to look upon it as rather the excuse. 

We may expect also that the wit of pupils is 
concerned a great deal with the things which they 
may not express, but which they have to repress. 
There is a great deal of playground wit, of which 
masters are supposed to know nothing, that is 
concerned with rhymes about the masters, and 
with jokes about their names — all expressions of 
hostility, of a hostility that has to be repressed, 
but that becomes excusable and tolerable be- 
cause it is wit. If a boy were to say openly some 
of the things he felt about a master against whom 
he bore a personal grudge, others might take 
exception to the tone of his remarks. But these 
others could hardly forbear to join in the laugh 
at a funny rhyme that meant much the same. 
It is an old story, this. One may not call a man 
a liar, but may accuse him of a " terminological 
inexactitude/' and we, as hearers, may protest 
that we are only laughing at the quaintness of 
the phrase. Or we may say that the man, sitting 
between Ananias and Sapphira, would complete 
a pleasant little family party, and the witticism 
16 



242 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

would set people laughing, whilst they protested 
that the personal reference did not appeal to them 
in the least, and that they were amused only by 
the unexpectedness of the quip. Schoolroom wit 
would be an interesting study, if some one with 
adequate opportunities should collect a body of 
examples and make them public. 

Psychopathology is an awkward word, but it 
happens to subsume, as no other word does, a 
number of things out of the ordinary, for which 
there seems to be no adequate explanation, and 
which are generally attributed to accident. We 
may therefore speak of a psychopathology of the 
classroom, and hope that, as the attention of 
teachers is drawn to the possibilities connected 
with such a study, they will collect together a great 
body of material for development. Teachers are 
the only people who can do this, for the materials 
referred to are available only to people who live 
in daily contact with children, and who observe 
them for long periods under varying conditions. 
People who merely visit or inspect schools cannot 
do more than skim over the surface of a sea, which 
the teacher may explore completely. 



CHAPTER XII 

DEPENDENCE AND SEX 

It is impossible to speak much about psych- 
analysis without mentioning the subject of sex. 
The whole world, it has been said, revolves around 
love and hunger; and there is no doubt that these 
two subjects are in the forefront of our interests. 
That is not to say that we think of them all the 
time, or even for a great deal of the time. But 
if we were in an environment where we had to do 
everything for ourselves, and where we had no 
sort of organised life about us, arranging matters 
for us, there is no doubt that we should think 
more urgently of both than we do at present. 
For most of us it is certain that if we attend to 
our work we shall not have to trouble much about 
food. Other people will grow things and prepare 
them for us, in return for the money that we 
are able to earn. As a result we have not to 
think at all about meals until the time that con- 
vention has decided is the proper time for them 
arrives. In the primary affairs of life, then, of 
hunger and sex, we are spared any primitive 

243 



244 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

expression of our cravings because a way out of 
the difficulty has been discovered for us, and we 
have nothing to do but follow along a trodden 
path. 

The hunger instinct is easy enough to realise 
and to understand. It is an instinct whose 
gratification is necessary for the life of the indivi- 
dual. The sex instinct, on the other hand, is one 
whose gratification is not necessary for the exist- 
ence of the individual; but is essential for the 
preservation of the race. 

It has, however, to be clearly recognised that 
it is not the usefulness of the ends that are served 
by the instincts that is the reason for gratifying 
them, at least where primitive people are con- 
cerned. The savage, for instance, is not so well 
versed as we in the precise reasons for eating. He 
knows nothing of food values, of proteids and 
vitamines, of carbohydrates and mineral salts. 
It has been stated by investigators who have 
studied the life of some of the native tribes of 
central Australia, that the peoples whom they 
were describing were quite unaware that children 
were born as a result of the union of a man and 
a woman, but believed that the two facts were 
quite unrelated. The simplest reason for the 
gratification of any instinct is the urge of the 
instinct itself. Men feel restless and uncom- 
fortable whilst an instinct is urging them on, 
but experience pleasant emotions whilst they 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 245 

are acting in accordance with its promptings. 

So soon, however, as a man begins to under- 
stand something of the nature of the ends of the 
instinct, so soon, that is, as he knows something of 
the results to himself and to others of the actions 
that his inner urgings prompt him to commit, 
he begins to modify the actions themselves. He 
acquires control, that is to say, over the instincts. 
Otherwise, he remains a savage. 

Control is shown in two principal ways. The 
first is mere repression. The man feels the urge 
to commit certain acts, but decides not to carry 
them out — to do nothing. He may be moved 
by high motives purely, such as consideration 
for others. He may be moved only by fear. 
He may be moved by considerations which are 
based upon reason. But in any case the result 
will be an internal conflict between the force 
of the urge and the force of repression that is 
pitted against it. The total value of repression 
is in any case largely negative, since it results 
in no action. The man is divided against himself, 
using one part of his nature to fight the other. 
The strongest forces in him, the instinctive forces, 
are rendered unproductive. •' 

It is true that it is better to do nothing at 
all, in a community, than to do something which 
can only result in harm. But it is a temporary 
expedient only. The real solution is discovered 
only when it is found possible to direct the instinc- 



246 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

tive forces into channels of activity which are 
approved completely by the individual. The 
majority of such discoveries have probably come 
to men without their seeking. Some course of 
action has revealed itself, and has been welcomed 
as filling a real want, the "want" being the 
craving of the instinct for gratification. The 
psychanalyst regards such an activity as a " sub- 
limation/ ' that is to say, as an approved outlet 
for an instinctive activity which must in the 
absence of such an outlet be repressed. 

The instinct of hunger has necessarily been 
repressed, though the activities in connection 
with it have been modified. We have surrounded 
it with ceremonial, with a ritual of table manners. 
We have regularised hours of eating. We have 
socialised it, so that meals are social occasions 
rather than mere appeasements of hunger. We 
have done something of the same kind in the case 
of the sex instinct, though in connection with this 
repression has played a greater part. 

Throughout the whole of the historical period 
the workings of the sexual instinct have given a 
great deal of trouble to men as individuals and 
as members of social groups. We must believe 
that the same fact held good earlier still than this, 
and the belief is confirmed when we see the 
struggles that go on amongst beasts and birds for 
the possession of a mate. 

Repression of this instinct begins, then, very 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 247 

low indeed in the social scale. The sexual life 
of savages is as completely regulated, at least, as 
our own. This, of course, is not the same thing as 
to say that the regulations are exactly like our own. 
They are different, but they are at least as strict, 
and breaches are punished with a great deal more 
severity than is the case amongst ourselves. 

The elaborate marriage regulations that are 
in force amongst the natives of central Australia 
practically mean that a man has no freedom of 
choice whatsoever. There is in practice one woman 
whom he may marry, and one only: a fact that 
contrasts strongly with the freedom of choice that 
exists amongst ourselves. In some countries 
class prejudices restrict choice, and in others 
financial considerations play a similar r61e. The 
adoption of monogamy involves repression. In 
short, wherever one looks in the world, one finds 
that men have had to adopt, in the interests of 
social life, some means of repressing the sexual 
instincts of the members of their group, and of 
enforcing these repressions by severe penalties. 

There is another direction in which repression 
has taken place. The workings of the instinct 
have been placed under a social ban, so that they 
must not be spoken of, except in a secret or 
veiled manner. This is a means of repression 
which has failed signally, whatever we may think 
of the value and success of other means that have 
been adopted. The treatment of sex matters 



248 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

as a secret has resulted in giving to them a promi- 
nence that is altogether unwarranted. Because 
sex has been treated as a shameful secret, it has 
come to be regarded as a mystery. 

Now the sex instinct manifests itself in many 
ways. We have singled out for reprobation a 
few of these only, and it is these few that are 
generally understood when the word "sexual" 
is mentioned. The psychanalyst is speaking 
more widely than the ordinary men when he 
uses the term "sex." He has been misunder- 
stood, and has been accused of seeing "sex" in 
the whole of life. It is there, but only in the 
sense in which the psychanalyst uses the word. 
In the sense in which the average man uses the 
word, it is less in life. The quarrel between the 
two, about which so much has been said, is really 
based on a misunderstanding of terms. 

Sexual activities, in the sense in which the 
average man will use the term, cannot begin until 
adolescence has passed, or at least has reached 
an advanced stage. But is the impulse a new one ? 
Have new instincts begun to function thus late 
in life? We cannot believe this. Nor can we 
attempt to fix a date at which the instinct began 
to urge. We have reason to believe that the 
sexual instinct, like others, urges the child to 
activity from birth. But it cannot urge the 
child to a definite conduct that is understood 
as "sexual activity" by most people, for the 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 249 

simple reason that the physiological mechanisms 
and structures that are necessary for the purpose 
do not exist, There is reason to believe that the 
perfection of these is dependent upon the workings 
of the sex instinct, which comes into operation 
long before the machinery by which only it can 
carry out the appropriate activities is developed 
to the point of functioning. 

There is much in the psychology of the instincts 
that awaits working out. Psychologists are by 
no means agreed in a definition of an instinct, 
or in their conceptions of the part played by the 
instincts in the mental life of man. Consequently 
a great deal of what is said in this chapter must 
be regarded as tentative merely. For much that 
is said there is evidence in support. Other parts 
of the view here suggested have been supplied 
in the endeavour to obtain a scheme which en- 
ables one to subsume in a coherent whole the 
facts of normal psychology, and those facts that 
have come under notice as a result of the examina- 
tion of the particular facts with which this book 
has attempted to deal. 

Some evidence of the view that has been stated 
in a preceding paragraph, viz., that the instinct 
is developed earlier than the structures that carry 
out the appropriate activities, is afforded by 
dreams, daydreams, and other manifestations of 
the unconscious. For example, a girl of fifteen 
years of age speaks of a daydream that comes to 



250 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

her every night before she falls asleep. The 
language she employs in narrating the reverie 
resembles strongly that of the Song of Solomon, 
in that it is at once poetic and erotic. Any one 
acquainted at all with love-poetry is able at once 
to see that the theme is a sexual one, and is con- 
cerned with her own relations with a lover. But 
had the girl understood this, she would hardly have 
communicated the daydream to a teacher. She 
is at a stage of early adolescence. Her uncon- 
scious mind has developed to such an extent that 
she " knows" unconsciously things which she does 
not consciously know, and "plans" unconsciously 
things of which she is as yet incapable. The situa- 
tions of adult life will find her prepared, perhaps 
not wisely or well, but at least prepared. 

Now one of the most significant things about 
the life of a man or a woman is that it is incom- 
plete. Neither man nor woman is complete. 
The very fact of sex means that each is deficient 
in certain respects, and that each is complete in 
the respect in which the other is deficient. Each 
is complementary to the other, and each must 
depend upon the other for completion. 

In the people who depart from the normal in 
such a way that we have to speak of them as 
"neurotic," we meet with a "feeling of incom- 
pleteness." They are aware that they are not 
complete, and they are always seeking for means 
to complete themselves. Sometimes they seek 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 251 

to learn many languages or many sciences, or to 
gain an encyclopaedic range of knowledge. The 
feeling of incompleteness expresses itself through 
a felt inferiority in some cases, and the neurotic 
shuns the society of others. Sometimes he seeks 
to add to himself degrees and titles, to reassure 
himself, to convince himself against the evidence 
of his feelings. Sometimes he seeks in splen- 
did clothing for a means of combating the 
feeling of incompleteness and inferiority. These 
instances must suffice. This is not the place to 
detail at length the innumerable modes in which 
the feeling of incompleteness may manifest itself. 

There is one mode, however, which is very much 
the concern of the educator. The neurotic, feel- 
ing the need of some one upon whom he must 
depend, reaches out towards individuals in much 
the same way that parasitic plants stretch out 
tendrils towards trees that can support them. 

The teacher is familiar enough with the type 
of child who is always seeking help. It is difficult 
not to like such children, even though they prove 
a nuisance at times. But their dependence is 
flattering, and it flatters the teacher in a manner to 
which he is too often very susceptible. The child 
who is seeking to depend on the teacher has every 
reason to remain unable to work at, say arithmetic, 
for himself, since it is his very inability that en- 
ables him to fulfil his end. 

A very common dream with school children is 



252 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

one which represents them as in difficulty or 
danger, as of drowning or being burned to death, 
but of being rescued at the last moment by some 
one who is seen only vaguely. A girl of eleven 
years of age frequently dreams that she is drowning 
in a great sea, and that she is rescued by some one, 
described as "a man," who is some distance off 
in a yacht. She is in great fear, and though she 
struggles violently her efforts are futile. The 
situation represents very well her attitude till 
recently towards her school work. 

Naturally enough the pupil is in a relation of 
dependence upon the teacher. This depend- 
ence is something, however, that has to be kept 
in check. It is something that must diminish 
as time goes on. The pupil comes to school to 
depend on the teacher, it is true, but the greatest 
lesson that he has to learn is that he must depend 
upon himself. The teacher has before him a 
task demanding the very nicest tact, in giving 
help in precisely the right amount, in encouraging 
independence, and in giving help. 

In many cases the child has received a great 
deal of encouragement in parasitism before he 
comes to the school. Many mothers are flattered 
by the child's dependence, and are led by their 
love of it into practices that prevent the child from 
developing any sort of independence. They do 
everything for the child. They issue directions 
in connection with its every movement. They 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 253 

encourage it to think and to act in babyish ways. 
They obviously notice it, laugh at the things it 
does, and mention them in its presence to their 
friends. They foster a love of notice in the child. 
When the child goes to school, and sits in the 
classroom with a number of other children, all 
very closely resembling itself, it no longer receives 
the amount of individual notice to which it has 
become accustomed. It feels slighted, inferior. 
There comes into operation the tendency to 
repeat conduct that has so often proved effective 
in securing notice. The child acts or speaks in 
a babyish manner. It performs actions imper- 
fectly and with difficulty. Teachers will agree 
that most of the " naughty' ' actions of children 
are "babyish" in type, or are at least such as 
would be normal in much younger children. 
They attract notice — unpleasant notice some- 
times; but it is notorious that the people who 
wish to attract attention would rather be tor- 
tured than overlooked. It is as if they were 
indifferent whether we loved them or hated them; 
but as if they were very much concerned that we 
should not be indifferent to them. 

The normal end towards which men and women 
should progress is as complete a measure of inde- 
pendence as it is possible to secure. Complete 
independence cannot be attained. But in the 
union of a man and a woman, each of whom is 
complementary to the other, we have a unit of 



254 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

society that is as self-contained and complete 
as it is possible for a single unit of a complex 
organism to be. It is this end, therefore, to which 
all school education should lead. It is to the man 
as a husband and a father, and to the woman as a 
wife and a mother, that we should look. It is 
the development of the child into these that is 
the aim of education. 

There are well-marked stages in the develop- 
ment that demand attention. 

The earliest stage is that in which the child 
attaches himself to one of his parents. Before 
birth he is, of course, completely parasitic. After- 
wards he is hardly less so, depending upon the 
mother for the fulfilment of all his wants. 

At a very early age his attitude towards his 
parents is one that is very definitely sexual, if 
we use the word in the wide sense that has already 
been indicated. The instinct of possession comes 
into play, and shows itself, in the case of a boy, 
in the desire to monopolise his mother; in the 
case of a girl, in a similar desire towards her 
father. There is no doubt that in general there 
is a sexual preference that decides the choice 
of the favourite parent. In the case of some 
children jealousy is shown when the parents 
caress each other in presence of the child. It is 
as if the child demanded for himself alone all the 
caresses that his mother has to give. 

Another stage, that has also a definitely sexual 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 255 

significance, is that in which the child becomes 
interested in his own body, and makes attempts 
to explore it. This interest is spoken of as 
"narcissism," the reference being to the chief 
figure in the Greek story of Narcissus, who fell 
in love with himself, and became indifferent to 
the charms of women, and allowed Echo to die 
of despair. It is this interest that leads the child 
to seek to display himself before others, not by 
virtue of what he can do or of what he knows, 
but by means of his body. Children often invite 
visitors to come and see them in their baths, 
or expose their bodies in ways that are innocent 
enough in the child, but that are found embar- 
rassing by their parents. Frequently, therefore, 
the child's interest is sternly checked before his 
curiosity about himself is gratified, and this 
checked interest may lead to some difficulty later 
on. The presence of an ungratified interest of 
this sort is likely to motivate actions in the future 
that are only explicable when we realise the 
nature of the interest that prompts them. 

The interest of the child in himself is to be 
regarded as normal and as possessing definite 
value for him. His interest in external things 
is a means of getting to know his environment, 
and his interest in himself is a means of getting 
to know himself. In both cases a good deal of 
effort is required, and the making of the effort is 
a part of the educational process. Too many 



256 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

people rush to the child's assistance so soon as 
they see him making an effort of any kind, with 
the idea of " helping' ' him. In reality they 
baulk him, robbing him at the same time of the 
educative value of the effort itself, and of the 
organic gratification which results from the suc- 
cessful operation of a train of activities. Further, 
they impress the child with a sense of his own 
inferiority and helplessness, and so assist him to 
regard himself unconsciously as an infant. At bot- 
tom, rationalise it as much as we will, the great 
desire to help and to save, valuable as it is in our 
social life, is motivated by the desire to display 
oneself to advantage before others. By helping 
the child, we demonstrate our superiority. There 
is no doubt that this tendency comes into opera- 
tion in the classroom. There are probably two 
principal sorts of bad teacher: the teachers who do 
not know how to give the help that is required, 
and those who are always helping. 

The child must pass through this stage of dis- 
covering about himself. He needs no encour- 
agement. He needs very little the help or the 
notice of adults. But he should have a number 
of interests — other children, animals, toys, occu- 
pations. The danger is that he may become 
absorbed in himself, learning to wonder about 
himself, to admire and to worship himself, to 
"fall in love with himself.' ' Above all, the adult 
should refrain from applying labels. Examina- 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 257 

tion of certain parts of the body by the child 
may annoy the adult, or may be disgusting, but 
it is quite wrong to tell the child that such ex- 
amination is " dirty' ' or " disgusting," since it 
is nothing of the sort to the child himself. Fur- 
ther, such labelling defeats the ends of the adult. 
It leads the child to questions that have the 
general meaning, "Why is it disgusting to handle 
these parts, and not others? In what ways are 
these parts different from others ? ' ' The child learns 
that he must not speak of these things to adults. 
The matter then becomes one that is to be thought 
about secretly, to be spoken of with intimates 
only, to be concealed from people in authority and 
from grown-ups ; and the interesting examinations 
are conducted in private. The adult has destroyed 
none of the interests that he wished to destroy. 
He has merely produced a suppression of a part 
of the child's conduct, so far as he is able to know. 
The parts of the body in question have assumed, 
for the child, a greater importance and signifi- 
cance than is warranted. The child has learned 
exactly what he should not have learned, and has 
acquired an attitude towards a certain group of 
facts which is precisely the very attitude he should 
never have acquired. 

It is, too, at a very early age that children 

begin to ask questions which some adults still 

find embarrassing. There is now a general body 

of agreement that the child should not be told 

17 



258 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

fables about the storks, and about being brought in 
a bag by the doctor. How far such statements 
are accepted as true by the child, is an open ques- 
tion. There is a good deal of reason to believe, 
that even if the conscious mind accepts them 
the unconscious mind never does so. This is 
too great a matter for discussion here. Be this 
as it may the fact remains that at some time or 
other the child will discover that the people whom 
it most trusted, and on whom it most relied, 
betrayed its confidence and lied to it; and the 
effects of this discovery will be profound. There is 
no doubt whatsoever that the questions of the 
child should be answered as truthfully and fully 
as the occasion demands and the age and intel- 
ligence of the child permit. Beyond this there is 
no need to go. It is a part of the business of the 
teacher and the parent alike to equip themselves 
with knowledge which will enable them to answer 
the child's questions in a suitable manner. 

At a later stage than that of the interest in 
himself, the child passes to interest in a companion 
of its own sex. Such companionships develop 
most fully in the course of adolescence, where 
they attain a degree of intimacy and passionate 
intensity that is impossible to the generality of 
men and women at any other period of life. There 
is a frankness of self -revelation of the one to the 
other that is extraordinarily complete. Interest 
in members of the other sex becomes conscious, 



DEPENDENCE AND SEX 259 

too, but these do not at the time possess the 
attraction that belongs to the comrade. 

Beyond this stage lies the full development 
of the child into the complete man or woman, 
and the age for this is one at which the child is 
no longer in the classroom. It is the early stages 
that are important to the class teacher. 

Each stage abounds in possible pitfalls. The 
teacher can do little more than guide and direct. 
We reach in this matter, as in many others, a 
conception of the teacher's function that is not 
different from that of Montessori. The libido 
of the child is like a great spring bursting out 
from the ground, with capacities for harm or 
for good. The teacher is a director, guiding the 
flow into valuable channels. More than this 
can hardly be said. This is not the place to 
speak of detailed methods. Psychanalytic theory 
has not yet developed to the point where it can 
definitely advise the adoption of a cut-and-dried 
method of dealing with classroom difficulties. It 
can at present merely place at the teacher's dis- 
posal a body of fact that may assist him to a clear 
view of the phenomena that he encounters in his 
daily work. 

What the end of all life is, we cannot say. It 
is doubtful whether the human mind can reach 
out on the one hand to origins, or on the other 
to final ends. But we can regard as an end of the 
strivings of the libido the completion of the in- 



260 PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM 

dividual, and this completion is to be achieved 
through another individual only. All other com- 
pletions are partial only, and are so far unsatis- 
factory, though the race has gained enormously 
from the endeavours made at adaptation by 
individuals who were incomplete from this point 
of view. Since this end is sexual in its nature, the 
whole of the strivings towards the end have a 
sexual aspect, which cannot be ignored. Sex 
colours the whole of life, and the powerful sex in- 
stinct draws into its service practically every 
other instinct with which we are acquainted: the 
terms "sex" and " instinct' ' being used in the 
sense in which they have already been employed 
in the earlier chapters of this book. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 
A. General 

i. Social Psychology, by W. McDougall, F.R.S. 
Not a psychanalytical book, but a necessary pre- 
liminary to psychanalytic reading, inasmuch as it 
gives the outlines of a system of psychology based on 
the recognition of the instincts of man. An attempt 
is made to classify the instincts, and to point out the 
nature of the processes by which these become or- 
ganised into systems. The great value of the book 
is that it makes available for discussion a great deal 
of material that has hitherto been left out of account, 
and that it attempts to define strictly terms that are 
loosely used by many writers on psychology. 

2. The Freudian Wish, by E. B. Holt. (T.Fisher 
Unwin.) The reading of this book should be 
postponed until the student is acquainted with the 
psychanalytic theory. It represents an attempt to 
consider the conceptions of psychanalysis in their 
relation to current psychology. The author regards 
the psychanalytic findings as in harmony with the 
modern " behaviourist " psychology, and considers 
that in the views of McDougall we have the necessary 
link between the two. 

261 



262 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

B. General Psychanalytic Literature 

1. Psychanalysis: Its History, Theory and Practice, 
by Andr6 Tridon. (Kegan Paul.) A lucid and con- 
cise summing up, in a single volume of about 250 
pages, of the views of the leading psychanalysts. 
Probably the best single volume available for the 
reader who is not acquainted with the technical side 
of the subject. 

2. Psychoanalysis, by Barbara Low. (George 
Allen & Unwin.) A clear and simple account of the 
Freudian theory. The final chapters discuss the bear- 
ing of the theory upon current social and educational 
problems. This book is probably the best simple 
outline of the views of the Freudian school. 

3. Psychoanalysis, by M. Bradby. (Oxford Medi- 
cal Publications.) A discussion of the bearing of 
psychanalysis upon a number of departments of life. 
The relations of psychanalysis to art and literature 
receives a great deal of attention. 

4. The Psychology of Insanity, by Bernard Hart. 
(Cambridge Manuals of Science and Literature.) This 
book deals very broadly with the subject of insanity, 
showing how the study of the psychology of the insane 
throws light upon normal processes. In particular 
the psychology of conflict is very lucidly treated. 

5. Man's Unconscious Conflict, by Wilfrid Lay. 
(Kegan Paul.) A simple account, popularly written, 
of the psychanalytic theory. 

6. Psychoanalysis, by Ernest Jones. (Balli&re, 
Tindall & Cox.) This is the standard exposition of 
the Freudian view in the English language. It is a 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 263 

large work, lucidly and clearly written, but is not an 
easy book for a beginner not equipped with a good 
deal of medical or psychological knowledge. It is, 
however, a book that must be read and mastered by 
any one who wishes to acquaint himself completely 
with the subject. 

7. Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, by 
Jung; English translation by Constance Long. (Bal- 
liere, Tindall & Cox.) An exposition of the views of 
the ' 'Zurich school.' ' 

8. The Psychology of Fantasy, by Constance Long. 
(Balliere, Tindall & Cox.) A volume of essays by 
one of the leading British exponents of the views of 
the " Zurich school.' ' The bulk of the matter is con- 
cerned with the mental processes of children, and the 
question of the application of psychanalytic theory to 
education receives a great deal of attention. The 
book is written in non-technical language, and 
teachers should find it of considerable value. 

9. The Problem of the Nervous Child, by Elida 
Evans. (Kegan Paul.) The book is written by a 
woman who has had considerable experience in the 
analysis of adults and of children. A number of 
cases are narrated in some detail, and are used to 
illustrate the results of faulty home education. 

10. The Interpretation of Dreams, by Professor 
Sigmund Freud. (George Allen & Unwin.) This is 
the book in which Freud develops his view of the un- 
conscious. It is the first book that the student who 
intends to study Freud should read, since it is not 
only the basis of later works, but in it is explained 
the terminology that is employed throughout Freud's 



264 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

work. It is by no means an easy book, and requires 
careful study. With it should be read the summaries 
of its argument to be found in Jones' Psychoanalysis 
(vide supra). 

ii. Wit and its Relation to the Unconscious ', by 
Sigmund Freud. (T. Fisher Unwin.) In this book 
Freud discusses the manner in which the theories he 
has developed from the study of dreams explain the 
nature and forms of wit. The book is an interesting 
study of repression and its outlets. It is not difficult 
to read, though the terminology is only intelligible to 
those who have read The Interpretation of Dreams 
(vide supra). 

12. The Psychopathology of Everyday Life, by 
Sigmund Freud. (T. Fisher Unwin.) A discussion 
of the way in which slips of the tongue and the pen, 
unaccountable forgettings, etc., reveal the action of 
the unconscious mind. The book is easy to read, but 
a knowledge of Freud's terminology is necessary if it 
is to be understood. 

13. Dream Psychology, by Maurice Nicoll. (Ox- 
ford Medical Publications.) An account of the views 
of the "Zurich school" regarding the dream. There 
are excellent chapters dealing with the subjects of 
extraversion and introversion, and with compensation. 

14. The Treatment of the Neuroses, by Ernest Jones. 
(Balli&re, Tindall & Cox.) Valuable for the student 
who is reading psychanalysis and who wishes to under- 
stand the way in which the theories of Freud have 
led to a consideration of a large group of diseases as 
the expression of mental conflict. The conception 
that a pathological symptom may be purposive and 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 265 

may express a mental conflict is of the greatest im- 
portance to an educator, who has so often to 
endeavour to understand, and to deal effectively 
with, behaviour that is not normal; that is in 
reality pathological, even though it happens to 
fall within the province of the teacher rather than 
that of the physician. It is therefore of value for the 
teacher who is endeavouring to acquire the psychan- 
alytic habit of mind to read such a book as this, 
even though its subject may seem remote from his 
actual daily experience. 

15. What is Psychoanalysis? by I. Coriat. (Kegan 
Paul.) A simple exposition of the difficulties a begin- 
ner is likely to meet with in the study of psychanalysis. 

C. Psychanalysis and Education 

1. The Psychoanalytic Method, by Oskar Pfister. 
(Kegan Paul.) The writer is a clergyman and 
teacher, who has applied the Freudian method in his 
daily practice in both capacities. In a few details 
he differs from Freud. He is much less concerned 
with theory than with practice and in the book gives 
details of a number of the cases where he has been able 
to help parishioners and pupils. His experience has 
led him to develop important views as to sex teaching, 
which he states at length. 

2. The Child's Unconscious Mind, by Wilfrid Lay. 
(Kegan Paul.) The writer discusses the process of 
the child's unconscious mind, and the light thrown 
upon the nature of education as a result of the 
newer knowledge. 



266 BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The above books are concerned with the application 
of the psychanalytic theory to education. There are, 
at the same time, a number of books that it is difficult 
to classify. They are not written definitely from the 
psychanalytic point of view, but were nevertheless 
written at a time when psychanalysis was "in the air." 
They are affected by current discussions, and the 
teacher will find in them a great deal of material 
that is relevant to the subject of this book. A list of 
some of these is given below : — 

3. Human Motives, by J. J. Putnam. (Heine- 
mann.) A series of chapters in which the author 
discusses instincts and ideals, and their relation to 
religious belief and to education. He deals with the 
psychanalytic movement and its bearings on 
education. 

4. Psychology and Parenthood, by H. Addington 
Bruce. (Heinemann.) Deals with the influences 
in later life of unfavourable environment and mal- 
adjustment in childhood. Whilst the standpoint is 
not psychanalytic there is a great deal of material that 
can be considered from the psychanalytic side. 

5. The Mental Hygiene of Childhood, by William 
A. White. (Heinemann.) The writer employs the 
psychanalytic findings for the purpose of criticising the 
environment and the education provided for children. 
There are a number of constructive suggestions. 

6. Mental Conflicts and Misconduct, by W. Healy. 
(Kegan Paul.) The writer deals with the cases of a 
number of delinquent children who have come under 
his supervision and care. He gives a great deal of 
detail concerning these cases. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 267 

7. Children's Dreams, by C. W. Kimmins. (Long- 
mans, Green & Co.) The writer has collected a large 
number of dreams (over four thousand) from children 
attending elementary and secondary schools. These 
are classified according to type and according to the 
age of the dreamer. 

8. Abnormal Psychology and Education , by Frank 
Watts. (George Allen & Unwin.) A study of the 
contributions made by the study of normal psychology 
to educational theory. A suggestive and valuable 
work. 

9. Mental Tests, by Philip Boswood Ballard. 
(Hodder & Stoughton.) This book is, strictly speak- 
ing, not concerned with psychanalysis at all, but deals 
with matter that will in the near future be reviewed by 
psychologists with some knowledge of analysis. It 
now appears certain that mental tests are capable of 
gauging with correctness the intelligence of pupils, 
and of indicating cases of " deficiency/ ' The defi- 
ciency is itself merely an indication that inquiries must 
be made as to its cause and nature; whether it be 
organic or functional. If the former, then it would 
appear that analysis can effect nothing. In any case, 
the whole subject of mental tests, their value and 
limitations, is one with which the teacher should make 
himself acquainted, and this book is an excellent 
introduction. 



INDEX 



Andersen, Hans, 216 
Anticipation of growing up, 67 
Association, laws of, 123 
Associations, word, 121-137 
Attitude, child's, towards 
himself, 67, towards class, 
166, towards parents, 147; 
et seq., 254, towards play, 82 ; 
and interest, 161; origin of, 
101 ; of dependence, 99, 100, 
107; transference of, 159; 
scientific, towards dreams, 
96 
Autistic thinking, 203 



B 



"Babes in the Wood," 215 
"Bad boy," 92, 188, 202, 206 
Batiste, 140 
Behaviour, 195 
Blots, 233 
Blushing, 239 



Carroll, Lewis, 217 
Cases — 

I., II., III. Fantasy of 

imaginary com- 
panions, 16, 22, 23 
IV. Fantasy of imaginary 
companion and of 
mother rival, 23 



V. Fantasy of imaginary 

kingdom, 33 
VI. Fantasy of imaginary 

occupation, 40 
VII. Fantasy of imaginary 
strategy, 48 
VIII. Fantasy of imaginary 

occupation, 50 
IX., X. Fantasy of imagin- 
ary triumph, 52, 61 
XI. Example of fear 

dream, 97 

XII. Example of "falling" 

dream, 101 

XIII. Example of associations 

of the dream, 112 

XIV. Example of the fear of 

darkness, 151 

Ceremonial, school, 90 

Chaplin, Charlie, 219 et seq. 

Cinderella, 66, 215, 224; mo- 
tive of story, 67 ; and parent 
attitude, 151 

Cinema, 207, 218 

Compensatory function of day- 
dreams, 21 

Confirmation 88 

Cook, Caldwell, 226 

Coughing in class, 168 



D 



Daydreaming, a universal 
phenomenon, 11; occasions 
of, 13, 20; a pleasurable 
activity, 15 



269 



270 



INDEX 



Daydreams, 11-78; compensa- 
tory function, 21; "silly" or 
"ridiculous," 14 

Death of parents, 145 

Defective child, 176 

Delayed response, 128 

Dependence, on father, 99; 
on mother, 107, 183; on 
teacher, 99, 251; on wife, 
107; on other people, 183, 
185; implied by sex, 250 

Disillusionment, 27, 28 

Dolls, 81 

Domination, 18, 26, 81, 92 

Dreams, 93-120; and dream 
books, 96, no; and dream 
work, 95; and examinations, 
194; of falling, 101 ; and fear, 
93; material of, 94, 119; 
process of composition, 94; 
and sjnnbols, 109; and 
wishes, 93 

Dual personality, 143, 217 

"Duckling, the Ugly," 66, 67, 
215 



E 



Education, aim of, 77, 254; and 

direction of interests, 226; 

types of problem, 207; with 

primitive peoples, 88 
Elaboration, 95; secondary, 95 
Erotic daydream, 249 
Estimate of self, 176 
Examinations, 98 ; and dreams, 

194; and illness, 165 
Exposure, 255 
Extraversion, 195 



Pairy tale — motive of, 69; 
personal factor, in 215. See 
also under ' ' Cinderella, ' ' 
"The Ugly Duckling," 
"Jack the Giant-Killer," 
and "Hop o' my Thumb" 



"Falling" dream, 101 

Fantasy, of imaginary com- 
panion, 16 et seq.; classifica- 
tion of, 42 ; and education, 40 

Fear, in relation to wishes, 
152; of darkness, 155; of 
burglars, 154 

Fidgeting, 197 

Fire, desire for, 223 

Fixation, 30, 200 

Forgetting, 228 ; of daydreams, 
14; of names, 232 

Free associations, 132 

Freedom, 77 

Freud, 3, 240 



Games, 87 et seq. 
Garvice, Charles, 217 
Girl Guide movement, 90 



H 



"Happy endings," 74 
Hayward, school ceremonial, 

89 
Heroine, commonplaceness of, 

73 
Hero myth, motive of, 70 
"Hop o' my Thumb/' 67, 222 
Hostility, towards mother, 26, 

29, 66, 189; towards teacher, 

241 
Huysmans, J. K., 140 



Identification, 210-226 
Imitation, 170, 201, 236 
Indulgence and repression, 149 
Infantile traits, 30 
Initiation rites, 88 
Instinctive tendencies, and 
fear, 153; hunger, 243; and 
play, 81; possession, 82; re- 
pressed, 76; self-assertion, 
81; sex, 243; subjection or 
homage, 89 



INDEX 



271 



Interest, 138-173; unconscious 

161 
Introversion, 174-194 



"Jack the Giant Killer," 67, 

222 
Jekyll and Hyde, 143 



Laws of Association, 123 
Legend of hero, 70 
Leonardo da Vinci, 142 
Libido, 172, 192, 198, 259 
Literature and psychanalysis, 
5 



M 

Malingering, 191 
Mastery, 81 
Mind- wandering, 11 
Montessori, 259 
"Mother's boy," 107 
Myth, motive of hero, 70 



N 



Name, significance of, 180 
"Narcissism," 255 
Neurosis, 192 
Novel, theme of popular, 72 



Play, 79-92; evolution of, 80; 
and instinctive tendencies, 
8 1 ; purposive function, 80 

Playthings, 81 et seq. 

Play Way, The, 226 



"Pleasure" and "reality," 15 

Possession, 82 

Projection, 71 

Property, 164 

Psychanalysis, and analytical 
psychology, 4; and disease 
5 ; and dreams, 5 ; and litera- 
ture, 5; nature of, 3; objects 
of, 173; and "spiritual free- 
dom," 173; and the teacher, 
6 

Psychology, inadequate, 6; 
materials in classroom, 6 

Psychopathology, 242 



R 



Rationalisation, 39, 40 
Reaction times, 126 et seq. 
"Reality," shirking of, 194; 

and pleasure, 15 
Regression, 31 
Repression, 92, 196, 221, 223, 

245 
Response, delayed, 128 
Rivalry, 164, 190, 202, 204 



St. Vitus 's Dance, 102 
Scout movement, 90 
Self-assertion, 81, 171 
Self-reliance, 100 
Sex, 243 

Shyness, 194, 239 
Slips and omissions, 227-242 
Socialisation, 85 
Stammering, during associa- 
tion test, 131 
Sublimation, 78, 91, 246 
Subordination, 18 
Symbols, 109; in dreams, 109 
Sympathy, 224 
Symptom and dream, 102 



272 



INDEX 



Teacher, and psychanalysis, 

3; and educational theory, 

9, io 
Theme, of fairy tale, 69; of hero 

myth, 70; of popular novel, 

72 
Thought, undirected, 203 
"Tin Soldier, the," 215 
Toys, 81 et seq. 



Tyranny of adults, 66 

U 

"Ugly Duckling, the," 66, 67, 
215 

W 

Wit, 240 

Work, dream-, 95 



Ji Selection from the 
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By ELLEN KEY 



The Century of the Child 



CONTENTS: The Right of the Chad to Choose His 
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